An Effortless Show of Segue Prowess
by Beautiful T Jakson
Summary: What if Hermione had been born one month premature? Just one month? Why, she'd be a second year in Harry's first year... Discontinued.
1. Chapter 1

The room was empty, silent except for a small radio placed on a lone table in the center. All around the high stone walls, floor-to-ceiling windows let in a muted glow from the seeming perpetually overcast sky outside. Currently, soft jazz music filled the room as a lone man sat at the table, casually playing with his long shaggy hair as he perused a stack of papers in front of him. His hair was dishwater blonde, as was his shaggy facial hair, no longer a stubble, but not quite a beard. He was skeletally thin and pale, and clearly hadn't seen sunlight for any substantial amount of time in the past two years. As the song changed on the radio, he drew out a pen, clicked it once, and crossed out a line on the paper, writing something else in and muttering to himself.

Quite suddenly, the sound of a door flying open interrupted the tranquil scene, and the author jumped slightly, looking up and sighing as the new arrival strode purposefully into the room.

"It's been weeks!" Sirius Black said, plopping down in a chair opposite the author. "Does it take you this long to proofread?"

"I have had some really bad writer's block!" the author defended himself. "I swear, I think I have ADD or something."

"A…" Sirius looked puzzled for a moment but shook his head. "Look, have you made any progress at all with the sequel?"

"Actually…I think I'm giving up on the sequel…" the author shrugged, and Sirius's jaw dropped. "Or on hiatus at least."

"What happened?"

"Well, I started posting the original on another site called Portkey," the author said, and Sirius nodded, having heard of this site before, "and…well, I got one or two unpleasant reviews…."

"So?" Sirius asked. "Ignore them. You got seven hundred really good reviews from the other place! You're not gonna let one or two people get you down, are you?"

"That's what I told myself," the author said, "but like it or not, I've lost my enthusiasm for _Dragon _and_ Disparate_."

"Then what's that?" Sirius asked, pointing at the manuscript on the table. The author smiled.

"A project I came up with a long time ago," he said. "I took a look at it last night and decided to work on it a little more."

"What's it about?"

"Well, Hermione was only a month away from starting school a year before Harry," the author said. "What if she had?"

"Then she'd be a second year while Harry was in first year," Sirius said with a shrug.

"Yeah, but think of the repercussions that would have," the author said eagerly. "Everything would change."

Sirius nodded in agreement, a thoughtful look on his face. "I suppose so. So, is _that_ one proofread, or…?"

The author held out the document and Sirius took a look.

* * *

**Chapter One: Go ahead, take the cupcake…. I dare you….**

Emma Granger was scared.

Not scared for herself, but for her daughter.

"Mrs. Granger, there has been a…complication," her obstetrician, Dr. Philip Sharp, said. "It's a rather common one, actually. The baby has gotten the umbilical cord wrapped around her neck. At the moment, it's still loose, but one wrong movement could cause her to suffocate."

"What do we do?" Emma asked, gripping her husband's hand tightly. Dan didn't even seem to notice, too focused on the doctor, his expression hard.

"Thankfully, she's far along enough that we could safely induce labor," Dr. Sharp said, consulting his clipboard. "She would only be a month premature, and children have survived two to three months premature. As it stands, that's our only option."

"And…she'll be okay?" Emma said. "There's no chance of her…not making it?"

Dr. Sharp sighed. "I'm required to tell you that there's always a chance of her not making it," he said. "However, off the record," he looked directly into Mr. Granger's eye, "she'll make it."

Dan nodded. "We're trusting you, doctor. Let's do it."

On August 19, 1979, Hermione Jane Granger was born to Dan and Emma Granger, a happy, healthy baby girl.

Eleven years later, she would be visited by an owl that would bear the most exciting news of her life.

……

"Last call, 9:15 to Lambeth!" the porter bellowed through the crowded King's Cross Station. "9:15 to Lambeth, last call!"

Harry knew Hagrid meant well. He'd been extremely helpful, introducing Harry to the magical world, answering all of his questions about the smallest of things, even buying Harry an owl as birthday present and scaring the Dursleys into behaving for him. There was just one problem.

As far as he could see, there was no Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.

_Platform nine…platform ten_. Harry stood in front of the platforms in question, glancing at his ticket occasionally and then back up at the signs, as though hoping for a doorway to magically appear (in his defense, Diagon Alley had functioned similiarly).

"Nine thirty to Crawley boarding now! All aboard nine thirty to Crawley!"

_Maybe the porter will know,_ he pondered, walking up to the porter.

"Excuse me," Harry asked, and the porter turned, smiling at Harry.

"Yes, lad?"

"Do you know where Platform Nine and Three-Quarters is?" Harry asked, and the man's smile vanished, replaced by a look of exasperation.

"Think you're being funny, boy?" he asked. "I have a job to do, so go find your parents."

He walked off, muttering about "kids these days", and Harry looked helplessly around, checking his watch. He had half an hour, but all the time in the world did him no good if he couldn't find the platform or anyone to help him.

"Need some help?" a voice asked, and Harry turned, seeing a smiling girl probably the same height as him, though her curly brown hair made her a tad taller. She had brown eyes and somewhat large front teeth, though not so much as to be distracting. He looked inquisitively around then turned back, pointing at himself.

"Yes, you," the girl said with a small laugh. "I heard you ask that man about Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. Don't you know how to get there?"

Harry shook his head. "I don't…really know much of anything about all this."

"Well, I'll help you, then," she said. "I'm Hermione Granger, by the way."

"Harry," Harry said. "Harry Potter."

Hermione's eyes widened slightly, but she smiled. "Pleasure to meet you, Harry. Now, the barrier," she pointed at a seemingly unimpressive stretch of wall between the two platforms, "is right there. There's no trick or anything; you just walk on through."

"Just…through?"

"I was nervous, too," Hermione said. "It looks quite solid, doesn't it? Don't worry, though, it's just an illusion spell. Very common, actually. It's no more solid than air."

She gave him an encouraging push on the back, and Harry took a few tentative steps forward, pushing his trolley with Hedwig's cage atop it. The owl looked at the barrier and gave Harry a look that said, "You're seriously going to push us _into_ that?"

Ignoring the imagined words of his owl, he pushed the trolley forward, resisting the urge to throw on the brakes moments before….

Not hitting the wall. Harry slowed his trolley to a stop and looked around in amazement. This platform was considerably bigger than the others in King's Cross. In the distance, a scarlet steam engine belched a thick haze that engulfed the area around it. A large brass sign above him said _Platform Nine and Three-Quarters_.

"Told you," Hermione said behind him, and Harry smiled at her. "What do you think?"

"It's…amazing," Harry said, and Hermione nodded with a grin.

"Shall we get some seats?"

After they stowed their luggage in the proper compartment, Hermione led him onto the train and past many compartments already filled with students. Snatches of conversation floated through the doors, filling the corridor with a low hum. Finally, they came to a compartment that was occupied by only two other people, both female. Hermione opened the door, and Harry stepped in nervously, staring at his feet.

"Hi, Cho," Hermione said, following Harry and leading him to sit next to her. "Hello, Mari. Nice summer?"

"It was fantastic," one of the girls said. She had long, shiny black hair and dark, dark brown eyes. She was clearly of Asian descent, though curiously, she had a slight Scottish accent. She smiled at Harry. "Hello, I'm Cho."

"Hi," Harry said, glancing over at the other girl, a curly-haired redhead with gray eyes, who seemed to be engrossed in a magazine calle _Witch Weekly_. Harry assumed this to be Mari. "Um, hello."

"Hi," she said, looking up from her magazine and fixing him with a curious look. "I'm Marietta Edgecomb. Who are you?"

"Um…Harry," Harry said. "Harry Potter."

Their reactions were a little disconcerting. Cho's jaw dropped, and Marietta's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates.

"Harry Potter?" she said. "As in _the_ Harry Potter?"

"Girls," Hermione said, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Calm down. Sorry," she said to Harry. "I guess you get that a lot."

"Not…really," Harry said, and Hermione got a curious look on her face. "I…didn't really know I was famous for anything until about a month ago."

"Seriously?" Cho asked, incredulous. "Why wouldn't your family tell you? They must've known."

"I'm sure they had their reasons," Hermione said, giving Cho a look. "Maybe they didn't want him to get a swelled head," she added with a giggle, and Harry chuckled as well.

"So, Harry, what house d'you think you'll be in?"

Harry shook his head. "I dunno. There's four, right?"

"That's right," Hermione said. "Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin. They're named for the four founders of Hogwarts, Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw, Helga Hufflepuff, and Salazar Slytherin."

"Obviously Hermione's in Ravenclaw," Cho said with a laugh, and Hermione pinked, nodding. "We all are, actually."

"Ravenclaw's supposed to be the house for 'smart' people," Marietta explained. "And since Hermione's the smartest witch in Hogwarts, she was a shoe-in."

"Each house actually has their own little stereotypes," Cho said thoughtfully. "Ravenclaws are smart but pretentious, Gryffindors are brave and foolhardy, Hufflepuffs are friendly but foolish, and Slytherins are clever and conniving. Not everyone fits their house's mold, though. _I'm _certainly not pretentious, am I?"

Harry shook his head, but Marietta smirked.

"Not _all_ the time."

"Hey!"

Harry merely watched, stunned into silence by the three talkative girls. He'd never spent so much time around so many females for such a stretch of time, and he wasn't quite sure how to act. Quite suddenly, the compartment gave a great lurch as the train juttered to life.

"Oh!" Hermione smiled at Harry. "Here we go!"

……

The three Ravenclaw girls were quite nice, Harry found out. Cho Chang was a fan of Quidditch, which Hagrid had explained to him, though poorly. She went into more detail about the rules and positions, and Harry found himself fascinated with the sport. Hermione rolled her eyes, muttering about "another Quidditch fan, all we need."

Marietta Edgecomb was a little abrasive, though Cho insisted she was "an absolute sweetheart once you get to know her." She quickly took a liking to Harry, whose quiet, demure attitude seemed to be a refreshing change from the boys she knew. She wasn't a Quidditch fan, though she was tolerant, much like Hermione. She and Cho had known each other before Hogwarts, as both of their mothers were involved in the Ministry.

Hermione was a "muggle-born", a wizard or witch of muggle parentage. Her parents were dentists, and quite successful as well. She was a self-proclaimed "bookworm" and loved reading. She'd apparently read about Harry in quite a few books.

"You're in _Modern Magical History_, _Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_, and _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century_," she explained, smiling at his dazed look. "You really had no idea?"

Harry shook his head. "I grew up with my aunt and uncle, and they never really told me anything. I didn't know I was a…wizard until my birthday."

"I still don't get it. Why wouldn't they tell you anything?" Marietta asked, looking confused. Harry shrugged, staring at his feet; he didn't really fancy going into detail about his family.

"I'm sure they had their reasons," Hermione said, echoing her earlier statement, and Harry smiled at her gratefully. "So, are you excited about learning magic?"

Harry nodded. "More nervous than excited," he said. "I was raised a…muggle," he stumbled over the unfamiliar word. "I'm afraid I might be behind in classes."

"That's silly," Cho said, smiling at him. "Don't worry. Hermione is better than me in every class, has been since day one." Hermione smiled, turning pink. "Kids aren't really supposed to use magic, whether they're muggleborn or wizard children. You'll be on the same page as everyone else."

Feeling slightly better, Harry smiled at Cho, who grinned back, looking at Hermione.

"Why don't you teach him a few spells?" she said. "Give us something to do."

Hermione nodded. "Good idea. Get out your wand, Harry."

Harry produced his wand from his pocket, and Hermione got her own out.

"Okay," Hermione said. "This was one of the first charms we learned last year. It's the Hover Charm. Hold your wand like this," she demonstrated the proper technique, and Harry mimicked it, watching closely, "and swish and flick," she showed him a swirling and tapping motion, which he mimicked. Hermione shook her head. "No, you're swishing and waving," she chided. "Swish," she did the first movement, slower, "and _flick_. And say _Wingardium Leviosa_."

"_Wingardium Leviosa_," Harry muttered, swishing and flicking. The magazine Marietta was reading suddenly floated from her hands, and she jumped, looking up at it. "I did it!"

"Good job, Harry!" Hermione smiled at him as Marietta grabbed her magazine out of the air. Cho laughed and gave Harry a pat on the back.

"Okay, what next?" Hermione dug out her copy of _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2_. "I'm sure you could learn some of these, and you have your copy of _Grade 1_."

"I've got an idea," Marietta leaned forward and whispered something into Harry's ear. Curious, he looked at her, and she nodded reassuringly. He looked at Cho and quickly raised his wand.

"_Rictusempra_," he said, and Cho's eyes widened before she started twitching, giggling as though being tickled by an invisible force.

"M-MariiiiI!" she whined, managing to pull her own wand out, giggling the entire time as Harry looked on with wide eyes. "_F-Finite!_" she gasped, and she stilled, smacking Marietta on the arm. "That was not funny!"

"Hey, Harry did it," Marietta smiled at Harry, who looked nervously at Cho. Cho smiled at him.

"But he wouldn't have done it if he knew what was going to happen," she said, ruffling his hair. "Harry's a good boy."

Harry blushed, and Cho giggled, only causing Harry to go darker. Hermione put her arm around Harry.

"Don't embarrass him," she admonished, and Harry smiled at her. "See?" she said to Harry. "That's two spells you know that the others won't."

Around noon, a plump old woman pushing a snack cart made her way down the corridor outside.

"Anything from the trolley?" she asked, smiling at them.

"No thank you," Hermione said, digging out a bag of trail mix from her trunk. "I'm set."

"A package of Pumpkin Pasties," Cho said, standing and moving to the card.

"Say that five times fast," Harry smiled, and Cho giggled as she went to sit down. "I'll have…."

He stared at the cart. There were no Nestle bars or packs of gum. Instead, Harry found himself examining Cauldron Cakes, Chocolate Frogs, Drooble's Best-Blowing Gum, and Bertie Bott's Every-Flavor Beans, among others.

"Um, one of everything," he grinned, pulling out a handful of sickles from his pocket. Cho stared as he made his way back to his seat laden with sweets.

"Hungry?" she asked.

"You'll spoil your dinner," Hermione cautioned him.

"I've never had magic candy," Harry smiled, pulling out a packet of Bertie Bott's Beans and dumping a handful in his palm.

"Careful with those," Cho said thickly, her mouth full of Cauldron Cake. She swallowed her food. "They really are _every_ flavor."

Harry glanced back down at the handful of beans in trepidation, and Marietta got an evil look on her face.

"I'll give you three galleons to eat that handful," she said, and Harry looked up at her then grinned, spilling all of the beans into his mouth.

"Eeeeew!" Cho squealed in delight, laughing at Harry's expression as the numerous flavors hit Harry all at once. Hermione laughed as well, and Marietta giggled as she dug the money out of her pocket and passed it to Harry.

"What's it taste like?" she asked, dumping the coins in Harry's hand. Harry shrugged; the various horrible and delicious flavors only served to break even, tasting strange more than anything else.

"Just…odd," he said, swallowing the mouthful of beans.

Hermione checked her watch. "We should change into our robes," she said. "We'll be there in the hour."

"So, Harry," Marietta asked as they dressed. "What house do you think you'll be in?"

"Um…I'd like to be Ravenclaw, so I can…be with you guys."

"Aaawww!" Cho smiled, hugging Harry. "You're so adorable! Can we keep him?" she asked Hermione, who rolled her eyes. She started to say something, but the compartment door slid open at that moment, and a boy entered.

He was tall, a little taller than Harry, and he had a pale face and white-blonde hair that was slicked back, bringing his cold gray eyes into more prominence. Harry had a brief impression of a well-dressed rat. The boy was flanked by two much larger ones. One was squat with bristly hair, the other slightly taller with a pudding-bowl haircut.

"I heard Harry Potter was on the train," he said, his voice haughty, and Harry finally recognized him.

"I met you in Madame Malkin's," he observed, and the boy nodded.

"We weren't properly introduced," he said. "I'm Draco Malfoy. This is Crabbe and Goyle," he nodded at his two bodyguards.

"Malfoy?" Marietta asked. "My mum's mentioned your family a few times. Says your father's always prowling around for some reason."

Malfoy smirked. "My father doesn't _prowl_," he said. "He has an active interest in the Ministry's happenings and happens to be on the Board of Governors of Hogwarts." He turned back to Harry. "You should be careful of the company you keep, Potter. You don't want to associate with the wrong sort," he glanced at Hermione, who pinked. "I can help you with that."

Harry took a step back, moving next to Hermione, who smiled at him. "I think I can figure out the wrong sort, thank you."

Malfoy's smirk faded, replaced by a sneer. "You want to be careful, Potter. Hanging out with this sort of…" his eyes landed again on Hermione, "riffraff…can get you into trouble."

"What do you mean by riffraff?" Cho asked coolly, falling into step next to Harry and Hermione, and Marietta joined them.

"I know exactly what you are," Malfoy said, his gaze fixed on Hermione. "I can spot a mudblood a mile off – "

"_Petrificus Totalus!_" three voices shouted, and Harry watched in amazement as the three boys's arms sprang to their sides and their legs fastened together. They hovered precariously for a moment before toppling unceremoniously into a heap. Cho and Marietta immediately set to dragging them into the corridor while Hermione led Harry over to a seat and sat him down, sitting primly next to him.

"Sorry you had to see that, Harry," she said. "Some wizards aren't exactly pleasant."

"And some are greasy-haired gits," Cho grumbled, pulling a handkerchief from her pocket. "How much hair gel does one boy need, honestly?"

The train pulled to a stop some time later, and they disembarked, Harry growing increasingly nervous. Hermione noticed this and took his hand, leading him onto the platform.

"There's no need to be nervous," she said. "Remember what I told you? It's just a hat."

Nodding, Harry jumped when he heard a familiar booming voice.

"Firs' years this way! Firs' years follow me! All firs' years over here!"

"Hagrid!" Harry said, grinning at the giant man.

"All righ', Harry?" Hagrid greeted him. "'Ow's yer cousin?"

"Terrified of me," Harry said with a grin, and Hagrid's eyes crinkled as he smiled at him.

……

Meanwhile, the Ravenclaw trio climbed into the horseless carriages that would take them up to the castle. As soon as the door shut, Cho squealed in joy.

"I hope he's in Ravenclaw," she said. "He's such a nice boy."

"I like him," Marietta said. "The other first year boys could learn from him."

"He is really sweet," Hermione said. "But…I don't know. He looks a little sad to me, too."

"Why would he be sad?" Cho asked, furrowing her brow. Hermione shrugged, clasping her hands.

"Something…I don't think his home life is all that great," Hermione said. "Don't tell him I said this, but I think his family's mean to him."

Cho smiled sadly. "Then we'll just have to be extra nice," she said. "And maybe we can talk to Flitwick or Dumbledore."

Hermione nodded. With that reassuring thought, she sat back and smiled, hoping Harry was in her house.

……

"When I call your name, you will come forward and sit on the stool," the woman called Professor McGonagall said. "I will place the hat on your head, and you will be sorted."

"It's just a hat!" a redheaded boy nearby hissed. "I'll kill Fred; he told me we had to wrestle a troll."

"A troll?" a dark-haired boy nearby chuckled. "And you believed him?"

The redheaded boy's ears reddened, but before he could retaliate, the dark-haired one's name was called.

"Terry Boot!"

The boy walked to the stool and sat, and McGonagall placed the hat on his head. A few seconds and….

"Ravenclaw!"

Harry watched as Terry ran along the table, sitting on the end and grinning as other students clapped him on the back. As he looked back forward, he caught Hermione's eye, and she smiled at him, waving. Harry smiled and waved back. Next to Hermione, Cho waved vigorously, and Harry had to stop himself from laughing.

McGonagall worked her way down the list; Justin Finch-Fletchley became a Hufflepuff, Neville Longbottom (after considerable thought on the talking hat's part) became a Gryffindor, Draco Malfoy (conversely, with no thought at all) became a Slytherin, joined later by Pansy Parkinson, Patil and Patil went to Ravenclaw and Gryffindor, and moments later….

"Harry Potter!"

Harry stumbled forward as an outbreak of whispering began among the students.

"Potter?"

"_Harry_ Potter?"

"He's here?"

"Where?"

"The black-haired boy with the glasses."

"He doesn't look like much, does he?"

Harry walked up and slid onto the stool, looking out over the Great Hall as thousands of eyes stared up at him, before it was all obscured by the hat falling over his eyes.

A voice in his head, quite unlike his own.

_Hmm…difficult. Very difficult. You've got a little of it all in here. There's potential. Lots of it. A desire to learn. A need for friendship and acceptance. Ambition to prove yourself. And the courage to fight for what you know is right. I've only ever sorted one boy like you before, over a hundred years ago. He went to Gryffindor._

Harry's hear dropped. Gryffindor. Hermione, Cho, and Marietta weren't in Gryffindor, though. All he wanted was to be with his friends, to learn more magic spells with them. He willed the hat to know this.

_Oh, but you don't want to be separated from your friends. That's the loyalty of a Hufflepuff._

No! Not Hufflepuff or Gryffindor or Slytherin! Ravenclaw! With my friends!

He could almost hear the hat chuckle.

_But the desire to learn with your friends seems to override all. Very well…._

"Ravenclaw!"

The second table from the left erupted in cheers as McGonagall lifted the hat from his head, and he stood and hurried over. Hermione waved him over, and she squeezed between her and Cho.

"Congratulations, Harry!" Hermione squealed, and Cho ruffled his hair again.

"Welcome to Ravenclaw!"

The cheers and applause lasted quite a bit longer than they had for any other student, but they eventually calmed, and the Sorting continued. Harry looked up and caught Hagrid's eye, and Hagrid grinned, giving him a thumbs-up.

When the Sorting had finished, Albus Dumbledore stood from his seat at the center of the table.

"Welcome, welcome," he said happily, smiling down at all of them. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts. I have just a few words before we begin our feast, and they are as follows: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"

Harry stared at the man for a moment, expecting some sort of reasoning behind this strange declaration, but Dumbledore merely sat.

"Is he…?" Harry trailed off, looking expectantly at Cho, who only smiled.

"You should've heard his speech last year," she said. "He gave the sage advice to never tickle a sleeping dragon."

"Roast pork, Harry?" Hermione said on his other side, and Harry looked over at her, his mouth dropping open in awe. The three girls laughed at his reaction. Food, and a lot of it, had appeared on the only recently empty platters before them.

"How – "

"Oh, it's a simple enough banishing charm," Hermione said. "On a very large scale, though. The kitchens are directly below us, and the food is prepared there, then a banishing charm sends it up here."

"Try the sweet potatoes, Harry," Cho offered him a platter. "They're to die for."

"Thank you," Harry said, doling a portion onto his plate. A burst of laughter caught his attention, and he looked up to see a tiny man sitting on several cushions talking to Professor McGonagall.

"That's Professor Flitwick," Hermione said in his ear, following his gaze. "He's the Charms professor and head of Ravenclaw House. He's a sweet man."

Harry looked down the staff table and saw a flash of purple. There was Professor Quirrel, talking to someone Harry couldn't –

"Ah!" Harry clutched a hand to his scar, which had stung as though poked with something sharp.

"Are you okay?" Marietta asked from beyond Cho, who also looked concerned. Harry nodded.

"Fine," he said. "Just a headache."

Placated, the two went back to their conversation, but Hermione continued to look worried.

"If it keeps hurting, go to Madame Pomfrey," she said. "She's the school nurse. She'll have something that can help you."

Harry nodded, his thoughts on Professor Quirrel. Something about the man had caused Harry's scar to hurt like it never had before. Or had it? Maybe he was just being paranoid. His scar had stung once or twice before; perhaps being around so much magic had cause it to react more severely than usual. That had to be it; no need to worry. No use in ruining his first night at Hogwarts worrying about an old scar.

Dessert was soon served and disappeared as well, leaving the plates spotless, and Dumbledore stood again. Harry yawned, nodding against Hermione's shoulder, and she laughed, nudging him awake again.

"Just a few more notes, now that our stomachs are full," he said. "First years should note that the Forbidden Forest on the edge of the grounds is called such for a reason. No students are allowed in for any reason. A few of our returning students would do well to remember, as well."

Harry saw his eyes twinkle toward the Gryffindor table.

"Second, Quidditch tryouts will be held in the second week of term," Dumbledore went on. "Anyone interested should consult their team captains for exact dates and times."

Cho smiled eagerly, looking down the table, undoubtedly trying to spot the Ravenclaw captain.

"Finally, the third floor right-hand corridor is off limits to anyone who does not wish to die a most painful death," Dumbledore said, and several students laughed nervously. Harry looked at Hermione, who had a nervous sort of smile on her face.

"I don't _think_ he's serious," Hermione said. "I'll have to ask Professor Flitwick later."

"And now, bedtime!" Dumbledore said, clapping his hands. "Pip-pip!"

The students stood, and Hermione took Harry's hand, Cho taking the other. He felt his face heat up, and both girls giggled.

"Congratulations, Harry," Marietta said from behind him. "Looks like you're stuck with us."

* * *

"Pretty good," Sirius said, nodding appreciatively. "I mean, _I'm_ not in it, but it's still not bad despite that."

"You narcissistic…" the author rolled his eyes. "Do you think it has potential?"

"Definitely," Sirius nodded. "But what about…carry, you called it? Does it have carry?"

"Hopefully," the author said. "I just don't know anymore. Fan fiction's tough, because you have to work your story around the pre-established canon. I'll do my best, though. I think there's a lot of carry potential with this one."

"Well, let's post it then!" Sirius said enthusiastically, taking off for the posting point, and the author had to rush to catch up.

"Wait, I hate running!"

"Just say the disclaimer!"

The author stopped short of the posting point and took a deep breath; he hated this part.

"I don't own Harry Potter or any of its affiliated characters, settings, or any associated creative property. The aforementioned is the sole property of J.K. Rowling and Scholastic Publishing Company. Any characters, settings, or creative property mentioned within this story and not associated with Harry Potter are the sole property of me unless otherwise specified, and use is limited to my permission. Thank you and have a nice day."

"Hurry up!" Sirius called.

"Hold your horses!" the author yelled back, following him.


	2. Chapter 2

Different music filled the large room this time, the radio pumping out something significantly more upbeat than the mellow jazz of last time. The author could be seen bobbing his head to the music as he stared sleepily at the manuscript in front of him, idly doodling in the margin. He didn't even twitch when the sound of a door slamming open echoed off the walls, announcing the arrival of one Sirius Black.

"Have you seen these reviews?!" Sirius said with a grin, holding up a sheet of paper. "Thirty of them in three days!"

"Yes, I saw them," the author said with a grin. "It's my story, after all."

"Tell me you have another chapt—what're you listening to?"

"The Beatles," the author said. "A muggle rock group from England."

"Why…?" Sirius rolled his eyes, shaking his head. Muggles. "Never mind. Is that the new chapter?"

"Yes, it is," the author said, putting a final touch on his drawing and looking at it proudly. "And look! I drew Fawkes setting Dumbledore on fire!" He held up the manuscript for Sirius to look at, and the wizard rolled his eyes.

"Very nice," he said sarcastically, reading the manuscript.

* * *

**Chapter Two: Skipping Rope With Lines Your Mum Said Not To Cross  
**

"That's him?"

"Yeah, with Granger, Chang, and Edgecomb."

"Whoa, first day here, and he's already a ladies' man."

Harry rolled his eyes as Cho giggled, taking a bite of her biscuit.

"Are you a ladies' man, Harry?" she said into his ear, and Harry felt his face heat up.

"Be nice, Cho," Hermione said, having already finished her breakfast and now reading a book.

"They all know me," Harry said in wonderment, looking around at the surrounding students, all of whom were staring, some attempting to keep it covert, others blatantly ogling him. Hermione smiled.

"Well, you're the most famous person on the continent," she said. "Probably in the world."

Harry shook his head, unable to grasp this fact. "I'll never be able to get used to that," he said, and all three of them giggled.

"So, what's your next class, Harry?" Marietta asked, peering over Harry's shoulder at his schedule. "Potions? Oh, I don't envy you."

"What?" Harry looked over at Hermione. "What's wrong with Potions?"

"Well, the subject is actually fascinating," Hermione said with a shrug. "The teacher is…not very friendly."

"Meaning he's a greasy-haired, hook-nosed git," Cho said, and Hermione gave her a reproachful look while Marietta giggled. "What?"

"You shouldn't talk about a professor that way," Hermione said. "Even if it is true," she added in an undertone.

"Just keep your head down and do your work," Marietta advised him with a smile. "You should do fine."

……

Harry had every intention of keeping his head down in Potions. He'd grown to be an expert at it after years of sitting quietly in school, pretending to not know anything so as not to do better than Dudley and bring the Dursleys' wrath upon him.

Snape, it seemed, had different ideas.

"Ah," he said upon reaching Harry's name in the class ledger. "Harry Potter. Our new…_celebrity_," he finished with malice.

He met Harry's eyes, and Harry shivered; there didn't seem to be any life there, only a cold darkness.

"There are few who can appreciate," he turned away and stood in a swooping movement, "the subtle art that is potion-making. It is more science than magic, methodical, exact, and…volatile. There is no foolish wand-waving, no spouting of silly words; there is only you and your cauldron. Many will find this class exceeds your foolish capacity, but for those of you who possess the…predisposition," he paused again, sneering at a Hufflepuff girl who Harry remembered was named Susan Bones, "I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even stopper…death."

A tense silence filled the room at these words. Snape whirled to face Harry.

"Potter!" he barked, and Harry jumped; what had _he _done? "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion in wormwood?"

Harry though for a moment. He and Hermione had read through some of his Potions book the previous night.

"The…Draught of Living Death, sir?"

Snape sneered. "A lucky guess," he drawled. "Where would you look if I told you find me a bezoar, Potter?"

Harry knew this one; Hermione had told him when they reached the antidotes chapter. "The stomach of a goat, sir?"

Snape looked livid. "Well, you've proven you can read, at any rate. What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

"They're…the same, sir," Harry said. Cho had actually given him that nugget of information.

"And what else does it go by?" Snape shot.

"Um…aconite?"

Snape looked ready to go on all day, but instead he whirled back around (he did do that a lot).

"Five points from Ravenclaw for the disruption of my class, Mr. Potter. Moving on…"

Harry felt his jaw drop. He couldn't believe it; he'd answered every question correctly, and Snape was accusing him of disrupting his class!

_Keep your head down_…Marietta's words echoed, and he nodded to himself. There was no point in protesting; he'd probably only succeed in losing more points.

Harry managed to keep quiet for the rest of the class as he and Terry Boot mixed a "simple potion" to cure boils.

"_Somebody_ needs a hug," Terry muttered, looking at Snape, who was criticizing Padma Patil and Su Li for their efforts.

"Tell me about it," Harry whispered back. "He doesn't seem to like me."

"Snape doesn't like _anyone_," Terry said. "Roger Davies says he's the worst teacher here. He only favors the Slytherins."

"Why's he still around?"

"Dunno," Terry shrugged. "I guess Dumbledore has his reasons."

"Must be a good reason," Harry muttered.

"No talking!" Snape spat in their direction. "Potter! Boot! Ten points each from Ravenclaw!"

……

"Aw, what's wrong, Harry?" Cho asked, hugging Harry as he slumped down onto the couch between her and Hermione in the common room.

"Snape hates me," he said. Cho rested her head on his shoulder while Hermione ruffled his hair, running her fingers through it. Harry closed his eyes, smiling. He wasn't used to receiving this much affection, least of all from a group of girls, but he wasn't about to question it.

"Why do you think Snape hates you?" Hermione asked softly.

Disarmed by her ministrations and soft voice, Harry replied, "He kept asking me questions, hoping to throw me off, I guess, and he took points away from me for no good reason."

"Snape's a git," Marietta said from a chair nearby. "You get used to him."

"We shouldn't have to, really," Cho said thoughtfully. "Everyone complains about him."

"When I was in my muggle school last year," Harry said, "a bunch of sixth-graders were mad about the way their Math teacher was treating them. They did something called a 'boycott'."

"What's that?" Marietta asked.

"A boycott is a refusal by a large amount of people to accept the services offered by someone because you don't agree with their methods," Hermione said. "In this case, since no one likes Professor Snape's treatment of students, it would mean refusing to show up for his classes until he's replaced or shapes up."

"Harry, that's a great idea!" Cho said, sitting up. "Dumbledore wouldn't be able to ignore us if we just stopped showing up for classes."

"But then Snape would just start giving out detentions," Marietta said worriedly.

"If we refuse to accept him as a teacher," Cho said, "we just wouldn't show up for detentions, either."

"But we'd be losing a lot of points for Ravenclaw," Marietta countered. Cho shook her head.

"Snape takes away a ton of points anyway," she said. "We could lose a lot now and make a difference or lose small amounts throughout the year that would add up to the same."

"Hermione?" Harry spoke up, and they both quieted. "You haven't said anything."

Hermione had been staring at her book, but her eyes weren't moving; she seemed to be deep in thought.

"It would definitely send a message," she said slowly. "And I think there are definitely better candidates for a Potions instructor. But we'd be breaking a lot of rules."

"Hermione, sometimes you have to break some rules to make a difference," Cho said. "If we do this now, we'll be making it better for future generations of Hogwarts students."

"You just want to stir up some trouble," Hermione said, and Cho shrugged with an impish smile. "Why don't we talk to Flitwick before we take any drastic action? If it comes to it, I supposed a boycott may be in order."

……

Professor Flitwick was little help, though it was not for a lack of sympathy.

"I can appeal to Professor Dumledore," he said after Hermione, Cho, and Marietta's class the next day, "but I have no authority over Professor Snape."

"Do you think Professor Dumbledore will do anything?" Cho asked, and Flitwick slowly shook his head.

"Professor Dumbledore has received quite a few complaints about Professor Snape over the years," he said. "He seems to believe that, whatever his methods, Professor Snape is a capable teacher."

"But he barely teaches at all!" Marietta said. "He tells us what to do and bullies us if we don't do it right! There's no…_instruction_!"

"I'm afraid there is nothing I can do," Flitwick said finally, and all three girls slumped in defeat. "I will talk to Professor Dumbledore, however. Rest assured. Now, is that all that you ladies need?"

"Well…there's something else," Hermione said nervously, looking at Cho, who nodded, urging her on. "It's…Harry, sir."

"Mr. Potter?" Flitwick looked curious. "What about him?"

"Well, I'm…concerned about his home life," Hermione said. "I think he may be staying with an abusive family."

Flitwick's expression immediately changed to concern, and he conjured three chairs for them to sit in. "Tell me."

……

"Well, there you have it, Hermione," Cho said as they entered the common room. "Flitwick can't do anything about Snape, and Dumbledore _won't_ do anything."

"At least he'll look into Harry's…situation," Hermione said, smiling when she saw a messy head of black hair. Harry was currently lying on a couch, buried in a book. Cho seemed to spot him at the same time, as she hurried over and stood just out of view behind him.

"Harry," she said in a singsong voice, leaning down to kiss his cheek. Harry turned beet red, and she giggled. Hermione rolled her eyes as she made her way over to the couch, followed by Marietta. Hermione and Cho joined Harry on either side, and Marietta took her usual position in a nearby armchair.

"So, are we going to do this boycott thing, or not?" she asked, and Cho nodded.

"We need to," she said. "With Snape as our teacher, we'll never learn anything, and that's what matters, right, Hermione?"

Hermione was stumped. Cho had spun the question so that there was only one reasonable answer. "Yes, learning matters," she admitted. Cho nodded.

"That's settled, then," she said, looking around at the group. "So, how do we spread the word?"

"Well," Harry said, "in school, the students made little fliers that they handed out, and it said 'Boycott Mr. Turner's Class' in big letters across the top."

"Okay," Cho pulled a piece of parchment from her bag and set it on a nearby table, pulling out a quill and ink. She wrote across the top, _Boycott Professor Snape's Class_. "What else?"

"Well, they had terms, like not attending his class, not accepting detentions given by him, not answering when called to his classroom, that kind of thing."

"Okay," Cho said, scribbling on the parchment. Within ten minutes, the flier read:

_**Boycott Professor Snape's Class**_

_Don't let the git ruin our education anymore!_

_Refuse to attend his classes_

_Ignore any detention/punishment given by him_

_Ignore all homework assignments you've gotten from him already_

_We may lose a lot of points, but wouldn't you rather be rid of Snape?_

_Potions study groups will be meeting in the library weeknights at 5pm._

The last line, of course, had been Hermione's idea.

"Okay," Cho said, looking up at Hermione. "And we'll still be learning Potions, just on our own, okay?"

Hermione nodded, still nervous about going to such lengths to defy a teacher. But Snape really was a foul professor. She drew out a stack of parchment and placed it next to their flier. Tapping the flier with her wand, she muttered, "_Transliterati_," and tapped the stack of parchment, which was instantly a stack of copies of the same flier.

"What was that?" Harry asked, scooting closer to Hermione to examine the stack of fliers. She smiled, feeling herself turn slightly pink at his closeness (their thighs were touching!) and explained.

"The Transcription Charm," she said. "It works the same way as a muggle copy machine."

"What's a copy machine?" Cho asked, and Hermione sighed in exasperation. Here was a boy who was completely ignorant of the magical world and a girl who was completely ignorant of the muggle world. And they were well on their way to becoming best friends.

"A copy machine is a large box-shaped machine that scans paper and prints an exact copy," she said. "It's how the muggles mimic a transcription charm. Now, back to task. There are a hundred fliers here. I say we pass out a few to members of each house – "

"Except the Slytherins," Cho said. "They won't go along with it."

"One or two to the Slytherins," Hermione amended. "We can't rule out that some of them might not like Snape any more than we do. Now, we'll tell the people we give the fliers to spread the word. That way, we have the fliers and word-of-mouth."

"I never thought I'd see that day that Hermione Granger defies a teacher," Marietta said with a smile. Hermione turned slightly pink, looking at Harry.

"He picked on Harry," was all she said, and the other girls nodded in agreement.

……

Surprisingly, the other houses took spiritedly to the concept of a boycott. None of them liked Professor Snape, and they were willing to sacrifice a shot at the House Cup for a shot at getting rid of their Potions teacher.

One particularly amusing reaction came when Cho and Harry were petitioning the Weasley twins.

"A boycott?" one (George, Harry believed) observed the flier with amusement. "How come we never thought of this, George?" (Okay, it was Fred).

"I'm not sure, Fred," the other twin said. "You'd think something this devious and crafty would have occurred to us sometime in the past three years."

"I reckon it took a couple of clever Ravenclaws," Fred observed, grinning at the pair. "Cheers, you two."

They wandered off, Fred shouting "Oi! Lee! C'mere!"

"Be careful around them, Harry," Cho said, taking his hand. "They're really nice, but the Weasley twins…have a different definition of 'fun' than most of us."

"Meaning they'd likely lace your pants with itching powder when you're not looking," Marietta said, joining them. "I've just passed out a bunch of fliers to the Hufflepuffs," she added. "They're into the idea, and some of the higher years have even offered to help tutor the study group."

"Great," Cho said with a smile. "Harry, your idea's catching on."

"It wasn't really my idea," Harry muttered. "The kids at my old school came up with it…."

Cho kissed him on the cheek. "You're so modest." She giggled when Harry turned pink. "It's fun to make you blush."

"How many times have I told you not to pick on him?" Hermione said, joining them as well. "The Ravenclaws are all for the idea. They can't wait to actually learn about potion-making instead of being told how_ not_ to do it."

"Great," Cho said, looking over at the Slytherin table. "Draw straws to find out who asks _them_?"

……

"…to Nigel Red for the weather," the newsman said. "Nigel, it's really cooling down, lately, eh?"

"That it is," Nigel said, pointing at the map behind him. "We've got a cold front hovering above us right now, with no wind, so it'll be here for a couple days. Now, there's a warm front moving in…"

"Petunia, is dinner ready yet?" Vernon Dursely bellowed into the kitchen.

"Nearly," Petunia called back. "Dudders, no, pudding is for dessert."

"Mum, I want it _now_!" Dudley bellowed.

"But Diddykins, you need to – "

"Now! Now! NOWNOWNOWNOW!!"

"All right, here you go."

Dudley ran through the living room and to the staircase, a large bowl of pudding in his hands. Vernon chuckled as the boy called, "Let me know when dinner's ready!"

The doorbell rang, and Vernon heaved himself off of the couch, trotting to the entryway. He opened the door and felt his appetite leave him as he saw the sight in front of him. There, perched on the threshold, was a man wearing luridly purple…robes and a long pointed hat. His silver beard hung past his waist, and he had equally long hair. His eyes twinkled behind his half-moon spectacles as he smiled at Vernon.

"Good evening, Mr. Dursley," he said. "I beg a moment of your time regarding your treatment of young Harry."

……

Severus couldn't believe what was happening. He was currently supposed to be teaching his third year Hufflepuff-Ravenclaw class.

But the classroom was empty; not a single student had shown up. The same phenomenon had occurred yesterday. All day, his classes had turned up empty, save for his Gryffindor-Slytherin classes, and even then only a handful of Slytherins had attended. Maybe the fools had finally realized that they weren't cut out for potion-making.

He needed to tell Albus. Students shouldn't be allowed to flout authority like this. It only led to delusions of grandeur and arrogant toerags like James Potter or Sirius Black, who believed themselves above the rules.

Standing, he swooped out of his empty classroom, intent on fixing this problem.

……

"So, the grindylow scales go in, and you stir clockwise – "

"No," Hermione gently interrupted Harry. "You skipped an ingredient."

Harry glanced down at the book, making his way down the list of ingredients. "Oh…scales and then kilofly wings, _then _stir."

"Right," Hermione said proudly, kissing him on the cheek. "Good job."

It was the first years' study night in the library, and they were currently reading up on a Belching Brew, a potion that would make the drinker belch deafeningly for the next hour and half. While Harry was still lost on what the practical applications could possibly be, it was on the curriculum for first years, so they studied it.

There was just one problem with their study group. While learning the theory was great, they still felt they needed to practice making potions.

"Well, we can't very well set up a cauldron anywhere," Cho said when Hermione voiced this concern. "We'd need an actual classroom."

"We can't exactly set up shop in an empty room," Hermione said. "We're breaking the rules enough as it is."

"What about the Room of Requirement?" a Slytherin girl (one of three Slytherin first years that actually joined them) asked.

"The what?" Cho asked, her brow furrowing.

"The Room of Requirement," the girl said. She had long, straight blonde hair and ice blue eyes. "Nearly all the Slytherins know about it. It's a room on the seventh floor that turns into whatever room you need it to be."

"The Bloody Baron used to use it for…stuff," the girl next to the blonde said, faltering at what exactly the grisly ghost used a secret room for.

"How come no one else knows about it?" Cho asked. The first girl smirked.

"With Slytherin, everything's on a need-to-know basis," she said.

"What's your name?" Hermione asked, abruptly joining the conversation.

"Daphne Greengrass," the girl introduced herself. "And this is Tracey," she gestured at her companion, a girl with curly black hair and deep brown eyes. "We hate Snape. He's a foul git, and he gives all Slytherins a bad name."

"And this room," Hermione asked, "it really transforms into whatever you need?"

Daphne Greengrass nodded. "I can show you."

……

"It's right here," Daphne said, stopping at a blank stretch of wall near a tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. "I tried it just once to see if it really worked, turned it into a little library with all my favorite books."

Hermione smiled. "How does it work?"

"You just walk past this spot three times, thinking really hard about what you need," Daphne explained.

Cho tugged on Harry's hand. "Come on," she said enthusiastically, "let's try it!"

Harry followed her, thinking. _We need a place where we can practice brewing potions, with all the ingredients, books, workstations and things we'd need._

Harry repeated this thought over and over in his head as he passed the blank spot on the wall once…twice…three times.

"Harry…" Cho whispered, stopping. Harry stopped as well, turning and looking at a door that had certainly not been there a minute ago. "Wow."

"Amazing!" Hermione observed, running up and opening the door. She stepped inside, and they all followed. Inside was a room that looked quite similar to Snape's dungeon, though much bigger and considerably less foreboding. Fogged glass windows took up one wall, letting in moonlight from an unknown source, and a large chandelier hung from the ceiling, illuminating many two-person tables, each set with a small pit to hold the fire for their cauldrons. Along the two walls adjacent to the door, several bookshelves were set up, presumably holding different potion-making books. A door broke into these shelves along the right wall, and on further investigation, they found an ingredients cupboard filled with the more commonly found ingredients, including several less common ones.

"Well?" Daphne asked, smiling at the foursome as they stared around in awe at the room. "What d'you think?"

"It's perfect," Cho said, smiling at the blonde.

……

The fireplace in the empty headmaster's office flared green for a moment before a spinning figure emerged, righting himself and dusting soot from his robes. Albus Dumbledore strode over to his phoenix, Fawkes, satisfied with his conversation with Harry's family. Stroking the bird's brilliant red and gold plumage, he spoke to him.

"May I beg a favor of you, old friend?"

Fawkes leveled a black eye at Albus, inclining his head.

"Harry requires a guardian angel," he said. "I wonder if you could…."

Fawkes inclined his head once more and disappeared in a flash of fire just as a knock sounded on his door.

"Enter," Albus said, moving over to sit behind his desk. "Ah, Severus," he greeted his Potions master, who strode angrily into his office. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"

"Headmaser," Severus said, reaching into his robes, "my students have boycotted my classes!" He moved to Albus's desk, slamming down a small flier.

"How bold of them," Dumbledore said, looking at the flier. "It seems they don't agree with your teaching methods."

"They must be punished!" Severus said. "Two months worth of detentions and a twenty points apiece from each student involved!"

"I'm afraid detention will do no good if they don't see you as a teacher," Albus said evenly, studying the parchment. "And as the flier indicates, they don't seem to be afraid of losing points. Perhaps you should treat them with the respect that you demand from them."

"They don't deserve my respect if they are going to continue to undermine my authority," Severus spat, and Albus shook his head.

"You have my opinion Severus," he said. Growling, Severus turned and strode from the room, slamming the door impressively behind him.

Albus looked back down at the flier. This wasn't the first criticism of Severus's teaching methods that he'd heard of. However, no students had gone to such lengths as recruiting all four houses in a boycott. Albus mused that this was the first solid showing of house unity in sometime. Were the circumstances different, he would be quite proud. As it was, it looked like his trust in Severus Snape may have been misplaced in regards to his capacity as a teacher.

* * *

"Ha!" Sirius laughed, lowering the manuscript and eyeing the author. "Git got what he deserved. Go Harry!"

"I always wondered why the students never did anything about having such an awful teacher," the author said, "so I decided that they _should_."

Sirius nodded, glancing back at the papers. "But in this story, Dumbledore actually seems kind of nice," he said. "Is that an act, or something? I thought you hated Dumbledore."

"Nah," the author said. "I don't hate any of the characters. There are just so many different ways to interpret them. Was Dumbledore manipulative, ignorant, or just an idiot? I'm not even sure what he'll be in this one. Snape is just an asshole."

"Amen," Sirius said, nodding in agreement. "Well, let's go post this thing!" He stood and headed for the posting point, the author following.

"So, is Harry gonna end up with Hermione in this one, too?" Sirius asked as they walked, and the author shrugged.

"More than likely," he replied. "But the possibilities with the other two are pretty good. It won't be a harem deal, but now that he's met all three of them at once, they all have an equal chance of ending up with him. And they all sound like fun to write."

"So…."

"I'll appeal to_ them _again," the author nodded as they reached the exit. "Ask what they want and take the different opinions into account."

They exited, the door shutting behind them with a resounding click, leaving the room empty save for the dulcet tones of John Lennon and Paul McCartney.


	3. Chapter 3

The author was distracted as Sirius entered the large room this time; his face bore a troubled look, and he would occasionally stretch his neck, reaching up to massage it slightly.

"Neck ache?" Sirius asked, and the author rolled his eyes.

"I _wish_ that was all," he muttered. "Car crash. I think I have some minor whiplash, and my car's probably gonna have to be wrecked, _and_ I have to pay my insurance company a five-_hundred_ dollar deductible _plus_ find a new car, since mine may have to be wrecked."

Sirius only stared, starting to speak, but the author wasn't done.

"Oh, and let's not forget that my insurance rate's gonna _soar_," he made a flying gesture with his hand, letting his pen fly out of his hand.

"_Accio_," Sirius muttered, and the pen flew back to him. He handed it to the author.

"Thanks," he grumbled.

"Feel better?" Sirius asked, and the author nodded, sighing in relief. "You lived, at least. Harry's told me about car crashes, and they can be fatal. Be glad you're still here, and buck up."

"It nearly _was_ fatal," the author nodded, looking up at the ceiling. "Suppose you're right. Just think Zen. 'Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, today is a gift. That's why they call it the present'," he grinned at Sirius, holding out the next manuscript, and Sirius chuckled, shaking his head as he read it.

* * *

**Chapter Three: Pay attention; there'll be a seminar on this next week**

_Harry,_

_I know you get Friday afternoons off, so how would you like to come and have a cup of tea around three with me? I want to hear all about your first week. Send us an answer back with Hedwig._

_Hagrid_

Harry smiled as he pulled a pen from his pocket (he'd taken to using one in lieu of a quill and parchment when not in class) and scribbled on the back.

_Hagrid,_

_I'd love to come have tea with you. You can meet my new friends. _He wrote this and sent it off with Hedwig with a grateful pat.

"Harry, your owl is beautiful," Cho said in awe as Hedwig took off. Harry smiled as he watched the bird exit the Great Hall.

"Hagrid bought her for me," he said, remembering the event fondly. He turned to Cho. "Do you want to go meet him after school Friday?"

"Isn't he the gamekeeper?" Marietta asked apprehensively. Harry nodded at her. "He's a little…scary."

"He's really nice," Harry said defensively. "He looks…a bit frightening, yes, but he's a big softie."

"We'd love to meet Hagrid," Hermione said, glaring at Marietta, who had the grace to look ashamed. "We'll _all_ go with you."

……

So it was that they walked through the brisk afternoon air that Friday, bound for the large hut on the edge of the forest. Harry led the way up the front steps and knocked on the massive door. A great, booming bark sounded inside, and they all jumped at the noise; Hagrid had a dog, it seemed.

"Out the way, Fang!" Hagrid said, opening the door a crack. A giant dog's nose poked out before being shoved back by Hagrid's massive hand. "Out the way, yeh dozey dog! C'mon in," he said to the four, opening the door. Harry led the way inside. The cabin was all one enormous room inside, and Harry felt even smaller in comparison to the Hagrid-size furniture decorating the room. The table alone was large enough to set up a normal-size table and chairs on top of it. Near the door, Hagrid held the collar of a struggling boarhound, presumably Fang.

"Hello, Hagrid," Harry said as the girls fell in step behind him. "This is Hermione, Cho, and Marietta," the girls waved in turn as they were introduced.

"Blimey, Harry," Hagrid said, his eyes crinkling as he smiled. "Yeh've definitely taken after yer father. Couldn' keep the ladies away, tha' one."

Harry blushed, and Cho and Marietta burst out laughing. Hermione couldn't hold back a giggle, but she hugged Harry.

"Well, it's Harry's fault for being so adorable," she said, and Harry blushed more, beginning to question his decision to bring the girls along.

"Well, yeh lot make yerselves comfortable," Hagrid said, letting go of Fang's collar. He bound over and slid to a stop next to Marietta, nudging her hand with his nose. She scratched the dog's ears, and a thumping filled the hut as one of his massive paws kicked against the floor. Hagrid wandered over to his fireplace and retrieved a boiling kettle. "Tea?"

"Please," they all chorused, and Harry sat in a chair that could have comfortably sat three normal-sized people; indeed, Hermione and Cho joined him on either side, smiling.

"So, how did yeh meet Harry?" Hagrid asked, pouring them all some tea. "On the platform?"

"Yes, Hagrid, and I've been meaning to talk to you about that," Harry said in mock sternness, fixing Hagrid with a calculating eye. "You told me all you knew about the wizard world, but you never mentioned how to get onto Platform Nine and Three-Quarters."

Hagrid's eyes widened. "Oh," he said with a sheepish grin. "Whoops."

Harry laughed, and Hagrid chuckled as well. "Sorry 'bout tha', Harry," he said. "Think 'bout it, though. If I'd told yeh, yeh wouldn've met these three."

"I guess not," Harry said, smiling at his three companions. "That wouldn't be any fun."

"Aww," the three girls chorused, and Hermione and Cho kissed him on each cheek.

"Hagrid," Marietta said thoughtfully, eyeing the newspaper on the table. "Someone broke into Gringotts?"

"What?" Harry looked up, intrigued. Marietta handed the newspaper across the table to him, and he read the article, which was apparently a follow-up to an article about a break-in at Gringott's bank. One thing stuck out to Harry, though.

"Hagrid, the break-in happened the day we were at Gringotts," he said. "We could have seen whoever did it!"

"Harry, yeh came here ter talk abou' yer classes, righ'?" Hagrid replied, very obviously (and poorly) attempting to change the subject. "Tell me how it went."

"'The vault had in fact been emptied earlier the same day'," Hermione read, and Harry looked up at Hagrid once more.

"Was that that grubby little package you – "

"Uh-oh, it looks like rain!" Hagrid said, cutting off Harry's question. "You lot better git back up ter the castle after yeh finish yer tea."

Hagrid would hear no more questions about the mysterious contents of the vault (his attempts to divert the subject growing increasingly drastic), though he chided them once he found out about the boycott of Snape's classes.

"I'm not sayin' he's the nicest sort," he said, "but Dumbledore trusts him."

"That's perfectly fine," Marietta said with a shrug. "I just don't want him as a teacher."

"Yeah, Hagrid," Cho agreed, "he's a total git."

"And now that we've got a proper place to learn, we're doing even better," Hermione said. "I think we're actually learning more than we would with Professor Snape."

"And it's fun to study with all of the other students," Harry said with a smile. "We even met a few Slytherins that aren't half bad."

Hagrid couldn't argue with that point; school was about making friends and learning.

A light rain began shortly after four, and Hagrid sent them back up to the castle, and not a moment too soon; as soon as they entered the common room, the sky opened up, and rain began falling in sheets, with no sign of letting up any time soon.

"Ah, man," Cho muttered, glaring out at the grounds. "I was going to practice for quidditch tryouts tonight."

"When are they?" Harry asked, looking up from _A Beginner's Guide to Potion-Making_.

"Next weekend," Cho said. "They want to give you ickle firsties a chance to learn to fly."

Harry grinned. He'd seen the notice about quidditch training yesterday. This Wednesday, the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs would be learning to fly with the quidditch instructor, Madame Hooch, who also happened to be the referee in the inter-house quidditch matches. He couldn't wait to get out and fly.

"Look at him," Marietta laughed, nudging Harry. "He's so excited."

"Maybe you'll be so good they'll let you on the team, too," Cho said, smiling and resting her head on Harry's shoulder. "Then we could go to practice together!"

"First years don't normally play on the quidditch teams," Hermione said, scribbling away at a Transfiguration essay that wasn't due for two weeks. "They aren't even allowed their own brooms."

"Oh, don't be such a spoilsport," Cho pouted. "Every rule has exceptions."

"Let's hope not _every_ rule," Hermione muttered, going back to her essay. Cho laughed and hugged Harry, seemingly just because she felt like it. Harry didn't mind; a small part of him rather liked the attention he was getting from the girls. Usually, the only attention he got was a beating or Uncle Vernon yelling at him for overcooking dinner. As he thought about dinner, his stomach growled, and Cho giggled.

"Dinnertime?" she asked, releasing him, and Harry nodded. "Come on, before they finish the veal."

……

"Good afternoon, first years," the silver-haired, hawk-eyed woman said, striding between the two rows of first years, one Ravencalw, one Hufflepuff, all standing next to old, worn-looking brooms.

"Good afternoon, Madame Hooch," they chorused.

"Welcome to your first, flying lesson," Madame Hooch said, turning to face them. "Everyone step up to the left side of your broom."

They hastened to do so, Harry looking down at his broom eagerly. It seemed to sense this, as it quivered. Next to him, Terry Boot eyed his broom in apprehension.

"Now, say clearly, 'Up!'," Madame Hooch instructed them.

"Up!" Harry said firmly, and his broom shot straight to his hand, causing him to wobble slightly with the force. Terry's rolled slightly, bobbing from the ground once and landing again. Across from him, Susan Bones was eyeing him enviously, her broom having not even moved from its stationary position on the ground.

"How do you do that?" she asked, and Harry shrugged.

"You have to want to fly, I guess," he said.

When everyone had gotten their brooms (either by Harry's method or from simply picking them up), Madame Hooch instructed them on proper mounting procedure (sending Padma Patil and Su Li into a fit of giggles).

"On the count of three, I will blow on my whistle," Madame Hooch said. "I want you to kick off from the ground hard. Fly up about ten feet, hover for a moment, and come right back down. Any showboating, and you will be given detention. Understand?"

"Yes, Madame Hooch," they chorused.

"On my whistle, then," she said. "One…two…three."

She blew on her whistle, and Harry kicked the ground, his broom taking to the air, although it seemed to pick up on his exuberance, as it flew much faster than some of the others, zooming to twenty feet before Harry had even registered taking off. He barely kept hold of the broom handle as he somehow managed a barrel roll before reaching twenty five feet. He stopped, grinning. Now _that_ was fun!

"Harry Potter!" Madame Hooch said. "Down here this instant!"

Smiling sheepishly, Harry turned and dived for the ground, jumping from the broom before it had even stopped.

"I'm sorry, Madame Hooch," he said, tottering to a halt. "I just…couldn't control it."

"You looked perfectly in control to me," Madame Hooch said, her gaze stern, but lacking anger. She seemed…intrigued. "That wasn't your first time on a broom, was it?"

"It was," Harry said, looking around and realizing he was getting a few jealous looks (and some admiring ones from the girls). Madame Hooch continued to gaze at him calculatingly before shaking her head.

"Ten points from Ravenclaw," Madame Hooch said. "And be glad it's not detention. I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt on whether or not you actually knew what you were doing."

……

Meanwhile, in the Ravenclaw common room, three girls sat in their usual chairs by the fire, one reading a book while two played chess.

"So, what do you guys think of Harry?" Marietta asked, prodding one of her rooks to take a bishop.

"He's adorable," Cho said immediately, looking calculatingly at the board. "And he's really sweet. He's like the perfect little brother."

"Yeah, most boys that age are…well, rude," Hermione said, perusing _Quidditch Through the Ages_. "He's really polite."

"And did you notice he's starting to come out of his shell a little?" Marietta said. "I don't think he's ever had friends before."

"Well, Professor Flitwick told me that Dumbledore looked into his situation at home and did something about it," Hermione said, turning a page. "Hopefully, with them being nicer to him, he'll start to really open up."

"And his eyes…" Cho said, most likely not paying attention, the chess game forgotten. "They're so…intense…. When I see them, I just wanna…."

"Cho, you just got done saying how he's like a little brother," Hermione said with an amused chuckle. "And he's only eleven."

"I know," Cho said. "But imagine what he'll look like all grown up." She smiled, a faraway look in her eyes. "Hmm, with a deep, husky voice and broad shoulders, strong arms that wrap around you and make you feel all safe…. He'll lean in and whisper into your ear…"

As Cho was waxing poetic about Harry, the boy in question had walked up behind her chair and observed her curiously. Smiling mischievously, he leaned into Cho's ear.

"Cho," he breathed, and Cho jumped, turning and seeing him laugh.

"Harry!"

"So, who were you talking about? Some fifth year boy or something?" Harry cocked his head curiously. Cho smiled and kissed his cheek.

"In a manner of speaking," she said. "So, how did quidditch class go?"

"Great!" Harry said, his eyes lighting up. "Flying's fun, and it's really easy for me!"

"Really?" Cho asked, turning pink. "I fell of the broom the first time I tried to fly. How did you do?" She patted the spot next to her. Harry wedged into the oversized armchair next to her, and Cho wrapped her arm around him.

"Well, first they told us to stand next to the broom and say 'Up!', so we did, and the broom jumped up right away!" Harry finished with a smile, practically jumping in his seat. "Then we took off, and I accidentally went higher than we were supposed to, but Madame Hooch only took off some points."

"You should be more careful when flying," Hermione said, though she was grinning at his exuberance. "Cho broke her arm in four places the first time she rode a broom."

"Three places!" Cho corrected, pinking. "The fourth was just a fracture."

"Which is just a small break," Hermione added, rolling her eyes at Harry, who laughed. "Anyway, Cho, should you really be playing chess at a time like this? That essay for Sprout is due in two days."

"Oh, bugger!" Cho said, sitting up and removing her arm from around Harry. "Hermione, I forgot! Help!"

Hermione smiled. "Go get your things," she said in a mock resigned voice.

"Take over for me, Harry," Cho said, ruffling his hair and leaving the chair. Harry stared at the chess pieces in confusion for a moment, having never played the game.

"Um…."

"Ready yourselves, lads," the king piece said to his subjects, drawing his tiny black sword. "We march to our doom."

……

"Don't be nervous, Cho."

"You'll do just fine."

"And if not, we promise we'll only love you a little less."

"Marietta!" Hermione scolded the redhead, who smiled sheepishly and hugged Cho.

"You'll do fine," she said. "I've seen you practicing on your own. You're definitely seeker material."

"Really?"

"Of course," Harry said, grinning at her. "I've seen you a couple times. You'll do great."

Cho smiled at Harry, leaning in and tapping her cheek. "Kiss for good luck?"

Harry leaned in and pecked her on the cheek, turning red as Cho squealed giddily.

"Now I can't lose!" she said, pumping her fist triumphantly and taking off for the pitch.

"Let's just pretend to not know her," Marietta whispered to Hermione, who nodded.

……

Cho took a deep breath as the Ravenclaw team captain, Stephen Cornfoot (who was handsome, Cho noted, though his ears protruded slightly) paced in front of the prospective Seekers, seven in total.

"You're all here because you want to be the seeker on the Ravenclaw quidditch team," he said. "Seekers are often considered the most important position on a quidditch team. The seeker is solely responsible for ending the game and ending it quickly. A lot of strategy goes into seeking as well. What if your team is two hundred points behind? Do you catch the snitch to end the game or wait until you have a chance at winning? It's a high-pressure position. Do you all think you can handle it?"

Cho nodded, though Stephen didn't see. He nodded at one of the chasers, Stretton, Cho remembered, who held up a small golden snitch.

"The rules are simple," Stephen said. "First to catch the snitch is seeker." Stretton released the snitch, and Stephen stared them down for a few seconds. "Go."

Cho jumped onto her Cleansweep Five and took off along with the other seekers. In the stands, she saw Harry waving at her and felt heartened. She had to win for Harry.

Weaving between two other contenders, she pulled up, thinking of the Phillip Worely's advice. The Tutshill Tornadoes seeker always said:

"_Focus, but relax. When you find that point where you can see everything but not get caught up in anything, that's when you're thinking like a seeker. And always watch for the gold."_

The gold…. Watch for the gold….

"Go Cho!" Harry called as she swooped by him, and Cho looked back to grin at him, gasping when she saw a gleam of gold three feet above his head. She swerved around and shot straight at him, watching as his look changed to one of shock and then terror. Cho kicked up the speed, adjusting her aim and reaching out her arm. Spinning, she just felt her elbow skim the top of Harry's head as she snatched up the snitch, barely pulling up in time to avoid hitting the back wall of the stands. As she stopped, a horn blared.

"Congratulations, Cho Chang!" Stephen's magically magnified voice said. "The new Ravenclaw seeker!"

……

"It's really late," Hermione whispered, looking nervously around the entrance hall. "We shouldn't have stayed out so late."

"Oh, relax," Cho said, though her eyes darted around the room as well. "What's the worst that could happen?"

"Never ask that!" Marietta hissed, coming up behind them. "Haven't you ever seen the movies?"

"What's a movie?" Cho asked in confusion, and Marietta rolled her eyes. "Look, we get caught, we get a few detentions, no big deal."

"Are detentions bad?" Harry asked, and Cho shrugged.

"Depends on who you serve them with," she whispered as they climbed the marble stairs. "Snape gave the worst ones with the most manual labor. Filch usually just makes you clean or something."

"Still, you should try to avoid getting them," Hermione said sternly. "Especially for a silly reason like wanting to stay out late and fly," she added, fixing Cho with a glare. Cho only smiled back and hugged Harry.

"I wanted to see how Harry flies," she said. "You're really good. Stretton is leaving at the end of the year, so there'll be a chaser post free. You could play next year when you get your own broom!"

"Really?" Harry asked, hopeful. "I'm that good?"

"You're a natural," Marietta added. "We should talk to Cornfoot about maybe making you a reserve chaser. Stretton is really focusing on his NEWTs a lot this year."

"As he should," Hermione added in a mutter.

"Newts?" Harry asked. Was there some sort of class project involving taking care of a newt?

"NEWTs," Hermione repeated. "It stands for Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests, which is a silly same in my opinion, but they're the seventh year standardized tests. You can't graduate from Hogwarts without passing them and OWLs."

"Ordinary Wizarding Levels," Marietta added at Harry's perplexed look. "A slightly more normal name. Fifth years take OWLs. Your results on the OWLs and NEWTs pretty much shape your future as a wizard."

Harry nodded, committing this information to his growing knowledge of wizard life. Now that he thought about it, he had heard a couple of fifth years talking about OWLs in their last Potions study group. He looked up to see Hermione smiling at him.

"What?" he asked.

"I know that look," Hermione said as they climbed another stairway. "You're like me, absorbing everything you hear about this world to learn as fast as possible."

Harry nodded sheepishly. "I have a lot of catching up to do. I've been sort of dumped into all this. They need an instruction manual for muggle-born and muggle-raised kids."

"Tell me about it," Hermione said. "I read all I could, but not a lot of kids like reading – "

"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!" a high voice cackled, and the foursome jumped as a man dressed not unlike a court jester seemed to float through the floor, wearing an impossibly wide smile as he leered down at them. "Students out so late? Tisk, tisk, that won't do."

"Peeves, please move," Hermione said exasperatedly, the first to recover from the shock of the poltergeist's sudden appearance. "We're on the way to our common room."

"But why are the ickle kiddies out so late?" Peeves asked with an exaggerated frown. "Setting a bad example for the firstie, you are," he grinned at Harry. "And Peeves has turned over a new leaf; it's his duty to report such reckless rule-flouting." He sucked in a great breath.

"Peeves, no…" Cho begged, but –

"STUDENTS IN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR! STUDENTS BREAKING CURFEW! STUDENTS DANCING THE TANGO WITHOUT PROPER MARIACHI SUPPORT!"

"Run!" Cho urged them, and they dashed around Peeves, running like mad. They reached the end of the corridor, but as Harry tried the handle on the door, he found it locked. He pulled out his wand.

"_Alohomora!_" he gasped, and the door opened.

"Well done, Harry," Hermione breathed as they slipped inside, slamming the door shut behind them. "Honestly, I can't stand that…thing. Tomorrow, I'm going to the library and see if I can find some means of removing a poltergeist from a building."

Harry chuckled. "Well, you were going to the library anyway, right?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, bumping him with her hip. "Yeah. So?"

Harry opened his mouth to retort, but stopped when he heard a sound similar to a scream, but with no volume behind it. Turning, he saw Cho staring with a look of open-mouthed horror at something further into the room they had escaped into. Next to her, Marietta was trembling uncontrollably. Harry followed their gaze and immediately understood their reactions.

Standing further into the room was a massive dog, larger than the Dursleys' tool shed. This in itself was not quite so bad, but the dog appeared to have two too many heads, and all three were glaring at the foursome with obvious anger at their intrusion.

"Back outside," Marietta said softly, her voice wavering dramatically. "Now."

The four skirted backward as the dog started growling angrily, the center head raising its hackles. Harry groped for the door handle, and his and Hermione's hands found it at the same time, turning it. They practically fell backward into the deserted corridor, Marietta kicking the door shut. Scrambling to their feet, they took off for the Ravenclaw common room, not caring about Filch or Peeves or detention, just wanting to be as far away as possible from the creature.

……

"There has to be some rule against something like this!" Cho said, clutching onto Harry like a lifeline. On his other side, Hermione rested her head on his other shoulder, clearly still frightened. Even Marietta sat at Harry's feet under the pretense of being closer to the fireplace. "Hermione?"

"I-I don't know," Hermione said. "In _Hogwarts, A History_, it says that guard animals are permitted under Section 12, Paragraph Q, Clause 4, Sub-Clause A of the Hogwarts Codex Operandi, but…a three headed dog…."

Marietta looked up at Hermione, clearly perplexed. "How do you remember all the sections and clauses and…?"

Hermione turned pink. "Well, it also mentions unicorns." At their looks, she blushed darker. "I like unicorns. But what was it guarding under that trapdoor, do you think?"

"Dunno," Harry said. "Probably whatever Hagrid took out of Gringotts that day. He mentioned he was taking it to Dumbledore."

"Well, it's safe, then," Cho said, shaking her head slowly. "You'd have to be mad to try and get past that thing."

Harry stared at the fireplace, deep in thought. What other dangerous things were there at this castle, in this whole world? Cho tightened her grip on his arm, resting her head on his shoulder, and he smiled reassuringly at her, resting his head against hers.

……

"Ah, Severus, thank you for visiting me at this late hour," Albus said, motioning to a seat across from his desk. "Severus, I'm afraid I have some…unfortunate news."

"Go on," was all the Potions master said, his face stoic.

"Well, I'm afraid the students absolutely refuse to go to your classes," Albus said, "unless you are willing to alter your teaching methods."

"I refuse to change the way I am just because a few _children_ can't handle constructive criticism," Severus spat, and Albus shook his head, his expression resigned.

"Severus," he said sadly, "over ninety-five percent of the student body is willing to drop your class completely and take up studying for themselves. They're even finding a way to practice making actual potions, effective ones, even. All have testified that you give plenty of criticism, though it's hardly constructive. If you're not willing to change your methods, I'll have to find a new Potions instructor."

Severus nodded and stood. "It's been a pleasure working with you, Albus. I'll clear out my office and be on my way."

"You're decided, then?" Albus asked resignedly, and Severus nodded.

"I will continue to work alongside you in any…future endeavors," he said cryptically, "but I'm afraid our professional relationship has come to an end."

"Very well," Albus sighed. "Good luck, Severus."

"Thank you, Albus," Severus said. "Forgive me if I don't submit a formal written resignation."

With that, he strode out of Albus's office, quietly closing the door behind him. The office was silent for a moment as he sat, pondering. Severus left very large shoes to fill in terms of subject knowledge. However, he also had to learn from the hardheaded man's mistakes and make sure his next professor was more compromising."Ah," he said, an idea occurring to him. He reached for his quill and retrieved a piece of parchment, starting on a letter. With luck, he would have a new Potions professor by week's end.

* * *

"YES!" Sirius shouted with a huge grin. "Hahahaha! 'Bout time the bastard got sacked!"

"Thought you'd like that," the author said with a chuckle. "He was a bit of an ass."

Sirius nodded with a grin, his eyes skimming up to reread the scene. "But…who's Dumbledore gonna hire to fill the spot?"

The author shrugged. "Dunno," he said. "Haven't thought that far ahead."

"What?" Sirius asked incredulously. "How could…. You don't have any plan for this story, do you?"

"Well…" the author looked thoughtful for a moment. "I know it's gonna _mostly_ follow the canon, but…not really," he ended with a grin. "With fan fiction, I usually just wing it. It's more fun that way."

Sirius shook his head; all that writing prowess, and he was flying by the seat of his pants. "Well, I suppose it's worked out in the past. Let's go post this thing."

The author heaved himself out of his chair, reaching for his teacup and downing the last of it. "Oh, and remind me to ask the readers who the new Potions professor will be."

"Did they ever tell who they wanted Harry to be with?" Sirius asked, and the author nodded.

"I'm still torn, but I'll figure that out when I come to it," he said. Sirius merely shook his head; what more could he really expect from this guy?


	4. Chapter 4

Hermione sighed as she walked down the long hallway leading to the room that she knew was more likely than not to be empty again. Whoever this author was, he'd been gone a while, to the point that Sirius and James had taken to sending others to check on him, and today was her day to look in on his empty room.

As she neared the door, though, she was stunned to find it ajar. Had Ron forgotten to close it completely after his visit yesterday?

_Wouldn't surprise me in the slightest_, she mused ruefully. She loved the redhead like a brother, but he was woefully irresponsible at times.

As she stepped forward to pull the door shut, though, she heard…music? The Beatles? They were a favorite of her father's, but the author was supposed to be around her age, maybe a few years older. Maybe he was into oldies?

"Hello?" she called into the room, knocking on the open door, and she stepped in to see a man of about twenty turning to fix her with a bemused look.

"Oh, great," he said with a shake of his head. "They're branching out."

"Hello to you, too," Hermione said with a light laugh. "I honestly wasn't expecting you to be here."

"Now, I haven't been gone _that_ long."

"Long enough for Sirius and James to delegate us with checking up on you," Hermione said ruefully. "Just be glad you didn't meet up with Ron. He had to miss _Friends_ to come here yesterday, and he inexplicably loves that show."

"It's pretty good," the author said with a shrug. "I don't watch a lot of TV myself."

"Me neither," Hermione said as the author moved back to his desk, forgoing sitting in the chair and instead planting himself on top of the desk itself. Folding his legs beneath him, he reached down to his chair and produced a file.

"Oh, the infamous file," Hermione said, stepping forward. "Which one is this?"

"_Segue_," the author said. "I'm focusing only on this one until it's finished."

"I see," Hermione said. "Do I read it, then?"

"If you'd like," the author said, and Hermione smiled as she accepted the file, opening it and perusing it.

* * *

**Chapter Four: I suppose by "clubbing", you don't mean cruising the Red Light district for girls, right?**

"Harry! Harry!"

"Cho! Cho!" Harry imitated his friend as she ran up to the dinner table after her first practice, smiling from ear to ear. "What?"

Cho giggled and jumped on the spot. "It's so great! Stretton failed his last three Charms tests!"

Harry blinked a couple of times. "I think we have different opinions on what's 'great', Cho."

"No, you don't get it!" Cho said, squeezing between Harry and Marietta at the table. "He's quitting the team to focus more on his studies! There's a chaser spot open!"

Harry had an idea where she was going with this. "Cho…I don't even have my own broom. I've never even _played_ quidditch."

He looked over to Hermione, who shrugged. "I agree about the broom, but you really are a great flyer, Harry. You could get a broom and say it's mine or something."

Marietta gasped in fake shock. "Hermione, willing to bend the rules for a boy? Scandalous!"

Hermione stuck her tongue out at Marietta. "Oh, be quiet," she said. "I just don't want to see such talent wasted. All you can do is try, Harry. If you don't make it, at least you'll have a broom."

"That's true," Harry muttered, thoughtful for a moment. "All right, let's give it a try," he said as Cho cheered and hugged him.

…

"Look at this one!" Cho said. "They've made a new Comet. I've flown on Comet brooms all my life."

"What about a Shooting Star?" Harry asked. "That sounds fast."

"Nuh-uh," Cho shook her head. "Don't go by names alone. Shooting Stars are all right, but they're an economy broom. Good for the money, but that's it."

"What about that…Nimbus 2000?" Harry pointed at a picture in the magazine, and Cho gasped, leaning closer to the page.

"They made a new one! Nimbus is like…the _best_ broom. Wow, it's perfect...and the magazine's doing a sale, this week only."

"I think I want that one," Harry said, looking at Hermione, who sat on his other side. She shrugged.

"Don't look at me," she smiled. "I don't know anything about brooms. That one's kind of expensive, though."

"I've got enough," Harry said, pulling out a sheaf of parchment from his pocket. "I asked for a bank statement from Gringotts the other day, and they say that Mum and Dad left me a school fund, but they also left me a little gold to 'have fun with'. Dad even said I should use it to buy a broom."

Hermione smiled and hugged Harry. "Well, I'm sure your mum and dad would want you to have the best broom. Let's fill the form out."

…

Several days later, breakfast was disrupted by the arrival of three owls struggling to carry a single package. Students broke out in whispers as the owls dropped the bulky parcel right in front of one Hermione Granger, who waved to the owls as they departed. Harry eagerly reached for the package, but Hermione swatted his hands away.

"Now, now," she said. "I want to be the first to look at _my_ new broomstick."

Harry bounced up and down in anticipation as Hermione opened the packaging, revealing a Nimbus 2000, looking every bit as breathtaking as the picture in the magazine. Students near the foursome stared and whispered to each other as Hermione nodded approvingly at the broom. Harry didn't tear his eyes away from it once as Hermione quickly gathered up her things and set off for the quidditch pitch, Harry close behind.

"Wow, Hermione, Harry's following you like a puppy," Cho said, falling into step next to her friend. Hermione giggled and handed Harry the broomstick.

"Boys and their toys," she said playfully, watching as Harry ran for the pitch.

…

_October first_, Harry pondered as he ticked off another day on the calendar he'd bought in Diagon Alley. _Time flies when you're learning magic._

"Potter," Terry Boot said from the other side of Harry's bed hangings, and Harry turned in time to see his dorm mate whip them aside. "C'mon, mate, stop staring at your calendar."

"Can you believe we've been here a month already?" Harry said, sliding across his bed and moving to his trunk to change. "Doesn't feel like it, eh?"

"You going philosophical on us, Harry?" Mike Corner asked with a grin, tossing Harry's tie at him as he buttoned up his shirt. "Those girls you hang out with are having a bad effect on you."

"I don't understand how he can deal with them for more than five minutes," Terry said as they made their way down to the common room. "No offense," he quickly added at Harry's reproachful look. "Just, my sister's that age, and when her friends come over during the summer holiday…blimey…. I usually lock myself in my room until they leave the next day…."

Harry and Mike chuckled as they entered the common room, and Harry quickly glanced over to the spot next to the entrance where the three girls in question usually waited for him, only to find that they were one short today.

"Where's Cho?" Harry asked as they approached. His question was quickly answered as a set of hands clamped down on his sides, and he yelped, lurching forward and into Hermione. She steadied him with a giggle.

"Right there," she answered, and Harry rounded on Cho, who was looking innocently at the ceiling. She glanced down at Harry, adopting an exaggerated expression of surprise.

"Oh, good morning, Harry," she said. "Didn't see you there."

Harry rolled his eyes. "You'll pay for that, Cho Chang."

Cho giggled, sticking her tongue out at Harry. "Looking forward to it."

"Breakfast, then?" Marietta asked, eyeing Mike and Terry, who had watched this scene transpire with twin looks of bemusement. "Are they joining us?"

"If they'd like," Harry said, glancing questioningly at the boys, who shrugged.

"Sure," Terry said, and the group exited the common room.

…

"I'm just saying, not a lot of first years make it onto the house teams, even _if_ they get around the broom rule," Mike said. "I mean, it takes at least a year for any normal kid to get the hang of flying."

"Mike, did you see Harry during that lesson?" Terry asked, thumping Harry on the shoulder appreciatively. "He's a natural."

Harry smiled sheepishly, and Terry led the way into the Potions classroom. The three made their way to their usual table, setting up their station.

"So, what d'you reckon she looks like?" Terry asked, and the other two didn't need to ask who he was talking about.

"Probably an old hag," Mike grinned. "They didn't want to break the ugly streak after they got rid of Snape."

The other two broke into quiet chuckles as the other students settled into their workstations around them.

"Maybe they got another ghost," Harry said with a grimace, and Terry chuckled; it was no secret that half the Ravenclaws despised Professor Binns's insufferably boring history lessons.

"Well, Binns was the teacher _before_ he died," Terry said, reaching into his bag for his potions book as the other two did the same. "Reckon it'd have to be the same case, and we'd have Snape's ghost."

The three shuddered at the prospect of the ghost of Snape in any scenario, let alone teaching them.

At that moment, the door to the classroom opened again, and as one, the whole class swiveled their heads to get a good look at their new professor.

"Bloody hell," Mike whispered, his face turning slightly pink as the professor stepped in. Harry could sympathize; she was definitely far from an "old hag". Indeed, she looked quite young, younger than Aunt Petunia, at least, and tall, probably close to six feet. She had brown hair pulled back into a loose bun and warm brown eyes, rather like Hermione's. Harry briefly wondered if she was a relative before reminding himself that Hermione came from a muggle family.

The new professor surveyed her students, and Harry got a good look at her face. She had an elegant beauty about her which, coupled with the almost regal way she carried herself, suggested she came from a well-to-do background.

She reached the front of the classroom and turned, smiling when she saw the attention focused on her (particularly from the male half of the class).

"Wotcher," she said. "If you've all had your eyeful, I'll introduce myself, then. My name is Andromeda Tonks, and I'll be your Potions professor for the foreseeable future."

…

"Mike, give us some lacewing flies," Terry said as Mike openly gaped at Professor Tonks. "MIKE!" he hissed. "Harry, we lost him."

"Here," Harry said, handing him a quill. "Stick the feather up his nose."

Grinning with unconcealed malice, Terry did just that, grabbing the quill and giving Mike a nose full. Making a strange sound between a sneeze and a cough, Mike swatted Terry's hand away, glaring at him.

"What d'you think you're doing?"

"It was Harry's idea," Terry said quickly, and Harry smiled sheepishly as Mike turned his glare to him.

"All I did was _suggest_ it," he said. "Terry's the one who – "

"Potter, Boot, and Corner," Professor Tonks said, and they all turned to look at her. She was smiling at them as she approached. "I assume you're discussing the potion you've yet to finish brewing? Looks like Mr. Corner was about to add the lacewing flies."

"Yes, ma'am," Mike said eagerly, quickly snatching up the container and consulting the book before adding the required amount, stirring carefully.

"And while he's stirring, Potter, you can…?" Professor Tonks prompted Harry, who quickly glanced at the book.

"Um…start cutting up the blastia root?" Harry asked, and Professor Tonks smiled at him.

"Correct," she said. "Part of working in groups is learning to work _together_ and not arguing amongst yourselves."

"Right," Harry said.

"Sorry, ma'am," Terry said, and Tonks smiled warmly at them.

"And Mr. Corner?" she said, and Mike looked up. "I'm happily married, and my daughter just finished Hogwarts a couple years ago. It would never work between us."

Harry and Terry hastily clapped their hands over their mouths to stifle their laughter as Mike froze in his stirring, staring in horror at Professor Tonks as she walked away. He looked at his two friends, who were failing miserably at hiding their amusement.

"Not. A. Word," he said, and Harry and Terry shook their heads, hands still clamped firmly over their mouths.

…

"I think I'm going to like this new teacher," Terry said as they trio made their way to lunch. "She's a lot more down to earth than Snape."

"And a lot easier on the eyes," Harry concurred, glancing sidelong at Mike, who remained silent. "Oh, c'mon, Mike, she's probably as old as your mum. She said her daughter just graduated."

"Oh, shut it," Mike said sulkily, speaking for the first time since Tonks's revelation in class. Harry clapped him sympathetically on the shoulder.

"C'mon, mate, there's plenty other girls out there," he said. "Besides, we're only eleven. We don't have to worry about girls for another year, at least."

"Says the guy who's got his own little cabal of girls following him around," Mike grumbled, and Harry felt his face heat up.

"Hey, they don't really _follow_ me – "

"Harry!" a positively joyous voice squealed, and Harry felt a set of arms engulf him before a mane of jet black hair blocked his vision. He stumbled before regaining his footing and looking over his shoulder to see Cho smiling at him. "Hi, Harry!"

"Hello, Cho," Harry said, all hopes of rebuking Mike's comment dashed to pieces. "Is it all right if my friends join us for lunch?"

"Sure," Hermione's voice came, and Cho released Harry, freeing him from her jungle of hair. "Hello, Harry."

"Hi, Hermione," Harry said. "Where's Marietta?"

"She got a detention from Professor Sprout," Hermione said with a roll of the eyes. "Apparently, adding dragon fertilizer to a shrieking heliopod, it causes the plant to burst into flames. Big ones."

"It was wicked, Harry!" Cho said. "Marietta almost lost her eyebrows!"

"Honestly, Cho, she could've burned down the whole greenhouse," Hermione said as Terry and Mike burst into laughter.

"That's what Sprout said," a new voice announced, and they turned to see Marietta approaching them with a sullen look on her face. "Harry, take my advice. Any plant with the word 'shrieking' in its name would do better without dragon fertilizer."

"I'll remember that," Harry said with a small smile. "You alright?"

"It feels like I'm always blushing, but Sprout says that'll wear off in a little while," she said. "Other than that, I know I'm going to be more careful in Herbology."

The others laughed, and the group went to eat lunch, Marietta playfully ruffling Harry's hair as they moved.

"Thanks for the concern, by the way," she said, fixing Cho with a stern look. "At least _some_ people care about my safety."

"Hey, I asked if you were okay," Cho said defensively.

"While _laughing_," Marietta added, irritated, and Cho grinned sheepishly.

"Well, you should've seen your face," she said, starting to giggle again. "I swear, you were totally gobsmacked."

"Cho, I don't think you're helping your case at all," Harry said, and Cho giggled more, leaning into hug Marietta.

"Aw, she knows I care," she said. "She's just pouting, right Mari?"

"Hmph," was all Marietta said, and Cho rolled her eyes, winking at Harry.

"Potter!" a vaguely familiar voice called, and Harry turned towards it, letting a sigh when he saw an all-too-familiar blonde head of hair attached to the sneering rat face of Draco Malfoy. He was flanked (as ever, these days) by Crabbe and Goyle, who were staring blankly ahead, Crabbe's mouth open slightly.

"Oh, what do you want?" Marietta asked, and Malfoy sneered at her.

"I don't recall talking to you, Edgecomb," he said, turning to Harry. "Word around the Slytherin common room is you were the one that got Professor Snape sacked. Is that true?"

"What if it is?" Harry asked. Malfoy's eyes narrowed.

"You shouldn't interfere in things you have no business interfering in," he said. "You were muggle-raised, right?" Leave the important decisions to those of us who know a thing or two about wizard society."

"If that's what got wizards where they are now," Harry said, "I think you could stand to learn a thing or two from muggles."

"Oho," Terry chuckled, and Malfoy's lip curled.

"Think you're tough just because you have your girlfriends watching you?" he asked.

"What about your henchmen?" Harry asked, glancing at Crabbe and Goyle, who were now staring at a nearby student and an ant scuttling across the floor respectively. "Do you ever actually go anywhere without them?"

Malfoy flushed, and Harry could guess that Malfoy even had the two escort him to the bathroom. "_They_ follow _me_. There's a difference."

"And we're the same with Harry," Cho said with a grin, stepping to Harry's side. "And if it means beating back a pompous, greasy-haired, arrogant git who has such a daddy complex that it's actually pathetic, well, we'll take that burden. Now, unless you want a repeat of what happened on the train, kindly shove off."

"Bloody hell, I'm in love," Harry heard Terry mutter behind him, and he grinned. Malfoy glared at Cho.

"Fine," he said, turning to Harry. "Let me know when you don't need your girlfriend to fight your battles for you."

He stalked off, and Cho giggled, taking Harry's hand. "He called me your girlfriend, Harry! Aw, I wonder if that's what people think?"

"If so, they're thinking it about all three of us," Marietta said, smirking at Harry. "Maybe in a few years."

As they moved to sit down, Terry nudged Harry. "Mate, you are by far the luckiest bloke alive."

…

Halloween dawned chilly but bright. The sky was a clear pristine blue, even as the first frost of the season coated the windows; a perfect day for chaser tryouts.

Harry dressed slowly, slipping a sweater on underneath his school shirt; it was rather chilly, and the corridors could be drafty, according to the girls. After class today, he would make his way down to the quidditch pitch with the girls (and probably Mike and Terry) to try for the empty chaser position on the quidditch team. Cinching his tie, he took a deep breath to steady himself.

_It's no use getting worked up about it now_, he told himself. _Focus on making it through classes, _then_ I can panic._

"Potter!" Mike called. "Let's do it!"

"Coming!" Harry called, grabbing his school bag and hurrying for the door.

"Nervous?" Terry asked as the three descended the stairs to the common room.

"A little," Harry admitted. "I mean, I've never actually played quidditch except practicing with Cho."

"I bet you'll do fine," Terry said. "You're a natural with a broom, so you just need to learn to handle the quaffle."

"And he's already great at that," a new voice said, and Cho smiled as she wrapped her arms around Harry, whispering a "Good morning" in his ear.

"Morning, Cho," Harry said, by now accustomed to her affectionate greetings.

"Ready for the big day?" she asked as they made their way out of the common room.

"As I'll ever be," Harry said, and Cho nudged him with her hip.

"You'll do fine," she said with a smile. "Trust me, I've practiced with the two chasers that are left, and you're definitely on par with them, maybe even better than Davies."

"Harry, all you can do is try your hardest," Terry said. "Right, Mike?"

Mike, though, seemed to have forgotten about all of them as he stared ahead, and when the rest of them followed his gaze, Harry and Terry burst into laughter while the girls collectively rolled their eyes. Professor Tonks either remained oblivious or was doing a wonderful job of ignoring the gaze focused on her. As she rounded a corner, Terry recovered from his laughter long enough to give Mike a light tap to the back of the head, jerking him back to the present.

"Mike, if you're going to aim for older women, at least be realistic and shoot for a third year."

…

Harry was useless in classes that day. Thankfully, this wasn't nearly the detriment it would have been on a normal school day; as it was Halloween, most of the students seemed to be in a restless mood (though the general air of excitement and anticipation was decidedly different from his own feelings of dread and apprehension), meaning that the teachers were at least a little lenient on them with the workload. What if he messed up? What if he made a fool of himself? What if the captain rejected him as soon as he climbed onto his broom? Could they tell skill just from the way he rode?

His thoughts continued in a similar vein through his first two classes. Mike and Terry tried in vain to cheer him up with assurances that there was no way he _couldn't_ make the team, but somehow, this only served to make him _more_ nervous.

Finally, as the boys made their way to Potions, Harry spotted Cho smiling at him as she and the girls proceeded in the opposite direction. She held up a small slip of parchment and waved it slightly to indicate that he should take it. They had time for little else as they passed, swept up in the flow of students, Harry just managing to grasp the paper as Cho whispered, "Read it."

While they waited for Tonks to set up her class, Harry unfolded the note and saw a single line scribbled in Cho's neat, curly writing.

_We still love you, whether you make the team or not. So RELAX._

_Cho_

With that simple sentence, Harry felt himself breathe a sigh of relief, and tension that had been mounting in his entire body seemed to evaporate.

Cho was just so cool sometimes.

…

Harry had to admit that he could see why Stephen Cornfoot was captain of the quidditch team. He had a very commanding presence, and he just oozed confidence as he stared down the line of prospective chasers, stopping in front of one occasionally to give them a once-over. He paused in front of Harry, who met his eyes and stared back, willing himself not to be intimidated by the older boy. Cornfoot gave him a small smile before moving on.

"I won't sugarcoat it," he said. "Whoever gets this spot is going to have some big shoes to fill. Stretton was one of our best, but he has his priorities. We don't have a lot of time before the season starts, so you'd better be ready for a grind."

Next to Harry, two older girls broke into silent giggles, one whispering to the other, "I'd be happy to grind with him."

Harry felt his face heat up as he clutched Hermione's Nimbus tighter; he wasn't totally sure what they were talking about, but the way the girls had said that last line left him with a distinctly unfamiliar feeling normally associated with the words "I'll tell you when you're older."

…

Harry took in a slow breath and exhaled through his nose as he hovered in a circle with two other prospective chasers. Opposite him floated Cornfoot, Roger Davies (the other remaining chaser), and Duncan Inglebee (who was normally a beater but would be playing chaser for this tryout). The plan was rather simple: Cornfoot, Davies, and Inglebee would be a team of three, as would Harry and the other two would-be chasers. They would play a ten-minute skirmish and try to get as many goals past keeper Grant Page as possible. Jason Samuels (the other Beater, who could have been captain had Cornfoot not accepted the spot) would watch and judge their performances, as would Cornfoot, as best he could while in the air.

A "pickup game", he'd called it.

"Ready?" Samuels asked from the ground, and they all nodded. "Aaand, GO!"

He tossed the quaffle up, and the game was on. Swooping inward, Harry spun and grabbed the quaffle with both hands, tucking it under his arm and speeding up the pitch. As he neared Page, he smiled as he felt all of his nervousness leave him. He was in the air again, flying at top speed, and it felt like he was moving so fast that he simply left his nerves behind.

He eyed the three hoops. Page was hovering slightly to the left, but he would probably zoom right as soon as Harry showed any indication of aiming at the hoop. Maybe a feint….

He banked, zooming at the right hoop, and Page moved to defend, but Harry changed direction mid-throw, producing a wild shot that arced through the left hoop.

Cheers rang out from the stands, and Harry pumped his fist triumphantly. Glancing toward where he knew his friends would be sitting, he saw Cho giving him two thumbs up, Hermione and Marietta smiling. Mike and Terry were grinning at him, but Mike pointed back at the pitch.

"Head in the game, Potter!" he shouted, and Harry shook himself. Right. Don't get distracted. He turned and zoomed back at his teammates. Cornfoot had the quaffle, but as he flew toward them, one of his teamates, Jaime Isaacs, he recalled, wrested the ball free from his grip, turning and speeding back toward the hoops. Cornfoot and Inglebee were right behind her, though, and Harry watched as Cornfoot swooped in and nearly recovered the ball.

"Jaime!" he called, speeding along so that he was slightly below and to her right. "Here!"

Jaime spotted him and tossed the quaffle just as Cornfoot made another grab. Snatching it, Harry slowed, zooming upward, deciding to go for the high ground (so to speak). As he banked into a turn, he saw a flash of blue out of the corner of his eye; Davies had decided to dog him while Cornfoot and Inglebee were on Isaacs and the other chaser, Peter O'Hara.

_C'mon, think Potter,_ he told himself. Davies was gaining, and he was slightly lower than Harry, meaning that attempting to drop and score a goal would put him directly in his foe's path. _Wait…. _The words from the Nimbus's ad came to him _…swift climbing and especially blazing fast dives…._ Surely a broom with "blazing fast dives" would do best in an assault from above….

Laughing, Harry slowed just long enough for Davies to wonder what was happening before rocketing upward, Davies attempted to follow, but Harry's top-of-the-range broom quickly outpaced him. Slowing at the apex of his dive, Harry had the brief sensation that he was hovering at the top of a particularly high rollercoaster before falling into a dive.

_This. Is. AWESOME!_ Harry couldn't stop himself from letting what surely sounded like a maniacal laugh as he rocketed toward the rings, leaving Davies in the proverbial dust. Daring to take his eyes away from the path in front of him, Harry saw Inglebee moving to help Page defend the goals. That meant that O'Hara was free for at least a moment….

Raising the quaffle, Harry feinted a shot at the goals, and Page slid slightly to the right before realizing the ruse. A second feint, and Cornfoot zoomed to the left. Harry raised the quaffle a third time and shot at O'Hara, who was surprised for only a moment before catching it. Cornfoot moved to cover O'Hara, but Harry used the speed from his dive to intercept him, blocking and giving O'Hara a moment to line up and sink a shot.

"Yes!" Harry shouted, and Cornfoot chuckled.

"Not bad, Potter," he said, and Harry grinned. Page tossed the quaffle to Davies, who sped back out to the midway of the pitch, O'Hara right on his tail. Isaacs was now covering Inglebee, meaning that Harry had to make sure Cornfoot didn't have the quaffle for too long.

Perfect.

Cornfoot rocketed toward Davies, and Harry took off after him, sacrificing about five feet of distance to gain a little height on him. Inglebee was already halfway to the hoops when O'Hara latched onto the quaffle and executed a complicated spin maneuver to loosen Inglebee's grip, and within seconds, O'Hara was now the target, Inglebee the pursuer. Cornfoot made to turn, but Harry immediately pulled into a dive, cutting across him and almost causing a collision, had Cornfoot not adjusted and attempted to move around Harry, but Harry cut across him again, zooming in O'Hara's direction. If Cornfoot wanted to reach O'Hara, he'd have to beat Harry there. As Harry watched, O'Hara passed the quaffle to Isaacs, who dived and shot it back up to O'Hara, who sank his second goal of the game.

"Okay, game!" Samuels called, blasting a high, piercing note on a whistle, and Harry slowed to a stop, looking toward the ground. That was it? Ten minutes already?

_Time flies when you're playing quidditch, too, I suppose._

…

"Harry that was amazing!" Cho squealed, pulling Harry into a hug as he sat next to them to watch the other two matches. "You'll make chaser for sure! You flew circles around the other two!"

"Mate, that was…awesome," Mike said. "I mean, you could go pro if you keep at it."

Harry blushed under their praise, and Hermione nudged him with her shoulder. "See? Nothing to be nervous about."

"Was I that good?" Harry asked, and Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Harry, I don't even _like_ quidditch, and you were one of the best I've seen," she said. "Trust me, Cho's dragged me to enough games."

"Oh, you had fun," Cho said, and Hermione rolled her eyes, leaning in to Harry's ear.

"_She_ just wanted to watch Davies fly around," she whispered. "She had the hugest crush on him – "

"Hermio_ne_!" Cho whined. "I totally got over that! Don't give Harry the wrong idea!"

She actually covered Harry's ears with her hands, and Harry laughingly shrugged her off. "Cho, cut it out." Cho giggled along with him and wrapped her arms around him.

"Oh, I just know you'll make the team," she said. "Look at them." She pointed at the current team of three, which was performing much less admirably than Harry's had been. "That one girl can barely stay on her broom, and the other's just ogling Davies."

"Jealous?" Harry asked teasingly, and Cho gave him a playful bop on the nose.

"Oh, shut it, you," she said.

…

Two games (and some less than stellar performances) later, Cornfoot and Samuels moved off to the side and conferred for about five minutes, Cornfoot doing a lot of nodding, Samuels making a few very odd hand gestures as he spoke. With a final nod, Cornfoot turned to the stands.

"Potter! You're in! Practice in two days, six o'clock sharp!"

Harry sat in shock as Cho cheered and hugged him again. He was a chaser? That was it? As if in answer to his question, Cornfoot called the rest of the team back to the locker rooms, and the few students that had come to watch the tryouts were now leaving.

Cornfoot was a rather abrupt person.

…

"Harry, can I just say – "

"No. Cho. You've said it seven– "

"Eight," Hermione interjected.

" – _eight_ times. Yes, you told me so."

"But I _diiiiid_," Cho said, bumping Harry with her hip. "And you actually thought you wouldn't make chaser. Silly-pants."

"Silly-pants?" Marietta asked with a laugh. "What, are you five?"

"Sometimes I wonder," Hermione said, and Cho stuck her tongue out at them. "Alright, I'm going to put _my_ broom in my dorm, so Harry, give it over."

Harry looked down at the broom in his hands and then up at Hermione, who gave him an incredulous look.

"Harry, do you seriously think I'd let anything happen to it?"

"No, I guess not," Harry said, relinquishing his hold on the broom. Hermione smiled and ruffled his hair.

"I promise, I'll take good care of it," she said, turning and heading for her dorm, Cho and Marietta close behind ("I want to change before dinner. You two, help me pick something.") This left Harry, Mike, and Terry with time to kill before dinner.

"Room of Requirement?" Terry asked.

"Absolutely." Harry replied.

…

"They're cutting it rather close," Hermione said, glancing toward the door as another group of students entered the great hall, though it wasn't the three boys. "I hope they don't miss dinner."

"Nah, they probably just went to the Room of Requirement to shoot spells at each other," Cho said, and Hermione wrinkled her nose disapprovingly.

"Honestly. One of these days, they're going to really hurt each other," she said.

"Of course they are," Marietta said. "They're eleven year old boys. What d'you expect?"

Hermione shrugged. "I suppose you're right."

Just then, a shout caused the whole hall to go abruptly quiet.

"TROOOOLL! In the dungeons!" Professor Quirrel was shouting much louder than Hermione would have thought possible as he ran toward Dumbledore. "Troll in the dungeons! Thought…thought you ought to know…."

With that, he fainted. There was a moment of horrible silence before chaos erupted. Many students stood and were already on their way to the door, others simply screaming with no idea of what else to do. Hermione, Cho, and Marietta all exchanged worried looks.

_What about the boys?_

"SILENCE!" Dumbledore's booming voice filled the room. Instantly, the hall fell quiet, and Dumbledore stood, going on in a much calmer voice. "Prefects, please escort your houses back to your common rooms. Teachers will follow me to the dungeons to find the troll."

"Ravenclaws, let's go!" Eric Thompson, a sixth year Ravenclaw prefect, called to the students. "Keep together and go _straight to the common room_. First years, front of the group."

"The boys!" Cho hissed, and Hermione nodded, craning her neck and looking around for a teacher, but there was a huge crowd between them and the nearest teacher.

"Maybe we should just go get them?" Marietta asked, and Hermione gaped at her. "Well, the troll's in the dungeons, and the Room of Requirement's a few floors up. We just need to make sure they get safely to the common room."

"Hermione, we _have to_," Cho said desperately, already dragging Hermione away from the queue of Ravenclaws. "Harry…we can't just _not do anything_."

"Okay, let's go," Hermione said. Troll be damned, she wasn't about to let Harry get hurt.

…

"Well done, Mike," Harry said sarcastically, and Terry shoved Mike playfully. "'Don't worry, guys, I'll keep an eye on the time. We won't be late.' If I miss the pork cutlets because of _you_ our friendship is _over_."

"Oh, shut it," Mike said. "Your girls will save us some food, and you know it."

"They aren't _my_ girls," Harry said, feeling his face heat up.

"I give it two years before you're dating at least one of them," Mike said, and Harry shoved him into Terry, who shoved him right back. "Ow, geroff, you two. You didn't exactly seem worried about making it…too…dinner…oh…ffffuck…."

"Yeah," Harry said, unable to think of anything else to say, for the twelve-foot monstrosity whose very presence in front of them had rendered Mike silent seemed to transcend the need to put words to it. Next to him, Terry let a noise that was almost a whimper, but didn't quite make it past the point of just being a sound.

"Do we run?" he asked.

"I'm not sure I can," Mike said.

"Try," Harry told them.

And they did. Turning on the spot, the boys took off, running much faster than they ever thought possible. The troll let an enraged noise, and the ground began to shudder as he took off after them. Thankfully, it didn't seem to be very quick on its feet, but it was little help, as it also didn't seem keen on giving up the chase. As they rounded a corner, it raised its club and swung, and Harry felt the breeze as it whisked by him, actually catching on his robes slightly.

"Faster!" he shouted, and they picked up the pace as much as was possible.

"Know any spells we could use?" Mike gasped, and Harry shook his head.

"Nothing that could hurt a troll," he said. "Unless." He aimed his wand over his shoulder. "_Petrificus totalus_!"

The rumbling stopped for a moment before a shockwave shook the floor beneath them. The troll roared in frustration as they ran, and they dared to slow and look behind them. The trolls limbs were locked to its sides as it lay on the floor, and it shook on the spot as it struggled against the full-body bind Harry had put on it.

Unfortunately, it was winning.

"Oh, bollocks," Mike muttered as he regained his pace.

"Trolls are resistant to magic," Harry said, doing the same. "Now we know."

"Harry!" a female voice shouted. "Harry, thank goodness – oh, holy fuck!"

Such was Hermione's shock, it seemed, that she didn't even have the awareness to chide Cho for her language. "Oh…my…."

"C'mon!" Marietta shouted, grabbing hold of Mike's arm and dragging him toward a tapestry. "This way!"

Hermione grabbed Harry's hand and tugged him toward the tapestry as well, and Terry followed.

"What are you doing?" Mike asked as the troll stood once again, now looking absolutely livid at having been trapped.

"Secret passage," Cho said, whipping the tapestry aside and ushering them through. "Go, go, go!"

They ran down the hidden corridor, which looked far too small for the troll to fit through, and turned sharply, putting the thing out of sight.

"Come on, come on," Cho said, leading them down a spiral staircase. "This'll let us out a few floors down, and then it won't be long until we reach the common room."

"You guys, I can't thank – "

"Yes, you can, just do it later," Marietta said, pulling aside another tapestry and peering out. "There're still teachers to worry about. C'mon."

They made a mad dash for the common room, Harry still nervously expecting the troll to come barreling around a corner at any moment, swinging his club madly and looking for revenge. Hermione squeezed his hand, and he felt reassured; surely she would have an arsenal of spells to throw at the beast, should it make a reappearance.

They stumbled to a halt outside the entrance, and Hermione rapped the large brass knocker sharply.

"What is yours, but your friends use it more than you do?" the knocker asked in its singsong voice.

"Your name," Hermione replied in a rush.

"Exactly," the knocker said, and the door slid open for them. The group clambered through the hole, forgoing dinner for now and settling for simply staggering to a cluster of couches near the fireplace, collapsing heavily in the plush cushions. Harry, suddenly exhausted from his nervousness at the quidditch tryout, the tryout itself, and finally running full tilt from a troll (risking his life more than a few times), slumped against Hermione's shoulder, falling asleep almost immediately.

* * *

"Sirius was right," Hermione said with a small smile. "You're not bad at all."

"Well, thank you," the author said, accepting the file back from her. "I try."

"So, is it going to be me and Harry, or will he end up with Cho or Marietta?" Hermione asked, and the author shrugged.

"I've got a while to figure that one out," he said. "Harry didn't notice Cho until around third year in the books, so maybe second year if he's around you three all the time."

"Hmph," Hermione didn't look pleased with this. "I was hoping for 'Oh, it'll be you, Hermione, absolutely.' I mean…I know it's a work of fan fiction, but still."

"Well, if it's any consolation, once I finish this one, I'll start work on _A Door Ajar_, and that's definitely a you and Harry story."

Hermione shrugged, looking only mildly placated, and the author chuckled. "Well, if you don't like it, you can go back and read _Dragon_. That one's got the epic romance feel to it, if I say so myself."

"Maybe I will," Hermione said. "In the meantime, I was specifically instructed by Sirius to make sure you posted that chapter if you happened to be here, so let's go."

"Yeah, all right," the author said, sliding from the table and grabbing the file. "Do it," he said, leading the way to the posting point, Hermione close behind.


	5. Chapter 5

"So, this is where the magic happens, so to speak."

The author looked up and couldn't stop his face from heating up slightly. Lily Potter's beauty was the stuff of legend (at least among fans), but it just didn't compare to seeing it in person. The author wondered how Harry dealt with the no doubt countless testaments of "mate, your mum's smoking hot".

"Um," he said, and Lily chuckled at him. "Yeah. Magic of a sort."

"Well, James and Sirius are at a quidditch game with Harry and his friends, so I've been sent to make sure you post this chapter you've finished," she said, sticking out a hand. "I'm Lily Potter, by the way."

"Yeah," the author said. "I know."

Lily smiled and nodded at the manuscript on the table behind the author. "That's it?" The author nodded. "Mind if I have a peek?"

The author nodded. "Go for it." Lily smiled at him again and moved to plop down in the author's chair, consulting the manuscript.

* * *

**Chapter Five: The Kind of Stuff People Pay People to Write Songs About**

Hermione sighed as she stared unseeingly at the dying fire, which wasn't quite embers yet but lacked any sort of substantial flame. On the sofa next to her, Harry dozed, his head in her lap. On the floor in front of the sofa, Cho was curled up in an assortment of blankets and pillows. On another sofa nearby, Marietta was snoring lightly. Even Mike and Terry had claimed their own armchairs and were wrapped tightly in blankets borrowed from their beds.

Slumber parties in the common room weren't unheard of (and were actually quite common on weekends), but Hermione had never expected to take part in one herself, mostly because they weren't exactly condoned by any sort of rule. But after being chased through the hallways by a troll, it seemed the boys were having difficulty getting to sleep, so they all decided to kip next to the fireplace for at least one night.

Hermione, though, was also having trouble getting to sleep, though not exactly because of the chase.

"Hermione?"

She felt a stirring in her lap and looked down to find Harry's piercing green eyes staring into her own.

"What's wrong?" Hermione whispered. "Nightmare?"

"Not really," Harry said, blinking and turning his gaze to the fireplace. "I heard…that laugh again."

"I see," Hermione had been informed of Harry's recurring dream about a flash of green light a high, cold laugh. She didn't have the nerve to tell Harry her theory about the possible meaning, though. "Well, just go back to sleep, okay? I'm right here."

Harry smiled at her, and Hermione couldn't help but smile back. He had such a sweet innocence about him that many boys his age lacked.

"Hermione?" he asked again, and Hermione made a noise to show she was listening. "Is Hogwarts…safe?"

Hermione was confused by that question. "What do you mean? They say there's no safer place."

"Then how is it that there's a three-headed dog just sitting in the third floor, and we've just escaped from a troll attack with our lives?"

Now Hermione faced a conundrum; this was a question she couldn't quite answer. "I…don't know, Harry."

"I mean, there's not a student in this school that doesn't at least know about _alohomora_," Harry went on, "so anyone could get into that door."

"And Dumbledore didn't exactly pick the best way from warning us away from it," Hermione agreed. "Any troublemaker would see that warning as a challenge."

"Right," Harry nodded. "And a troll got in here, too."

"Yes, it did," Hermione said. "No matter how it got in, on its own or with help, it still got in here. I can see your point."

"So…is it always like this?" Harry asked, and Hermione shook her head.

"It wasn't last year," she said. "The biggest happening last year was Professor Tifton getting sloshed at breakfast and deciding to give an impromptu dueling lesson. That's how we ended up with Quirrel this year."

Harry laughed, and Hermione giggled along with him. The light moment faded, though and Hermione sighed thoughtfully.

"Well, maybe we can talk to Professor Flitwick," she said. "We'll ask him why there's a great three-headed dog behind a badly locked door and how a troll could've possibly gotten in here. Honestly, now that you bring it up, this place doesn't exactly seem safe, especially since it's supposed to be a school. For now, though, we should get some sleep. It's nearly one in the morning, and Cho wants to practice quidditch with you tomorrow."

Harry grinned. "_Nothing_ can stop me from playing quidditch, even sleep deprivation."

Hermione chuckled and pulled at the enormous afghan draped over the couch, draping it over Harry and managing to wrap herself up as well. "Good night, Harry," she said finally, and Harry grinned wider, rolling onto his side and snuggling into Hermione's lap (eliciting a slight blush from the girl) before dozing. Hermione went back to staring at the fire, letting the dull roar of the flames and the cracking of the logs lull her to sleep as well.

…

"So, whatever _did_ happen to that troll?" Cho wondered out loud at breakfast the next day, and Padma Patil perked up, turning from her conversation with Su Li.

"You didn't hear?" she asked. "Apparently, Professor Flitwick took it on. Singlehandedly. I asked him what he did, but he just said it's a 'trade secret', whatever that means. But get this. I went to ask Sprout about it, and she went pale, said she didn't want to talk about it."

"Really?"

"McGonagall was the same way, according to Parvati," she went on, referring to her Gryffindor sister.

"Well, he is called one of the best duelists of the age," Hermione said. "He's supposed to be able to hold his own against Dumbledore, even."

"Our head of house is a total badass," Mike said, and Hermione rolled her eyes.

"You put it so eloquently," she deapanned, turning to Harry. "So, do you want to go talk to Flitwick after breakfast?"

"What for?" Cho asked, and the others turned to listen to Hermione.

"To ask him how a troll got in and why there's a massive three-headed dog behind a badly-locked door on the third floor," Harry said, taking a sip of orange juice.

"Makes sense," Terry said after a brief silence. Marietta, though, was looking at something to Cho's left. They all looked and saw Padma staring at Harry with wide eyes.

"Wait, a massive three-headed dog?" she asked. "Are you talking about a cerberus? _That's _what's behind the door on the third floor?"

"Um…" Harry trailed off as Su Li now joined in.

"Actually, I heard Marcus Belby and Randolph Burrow snuck out one night to find out what was behind the door," she said. "They said that all they had to do was use _alohomora_, and the door opened right up! They didn't actually see what was in there, but they heard this really loud growling."

"Wicked!" a kid further down the table said. "Morag, wanna go check it out?"

"Now?" another boy across the table said, and the group looked on helplessly as the two students quickly bolted down the remains of their breakfast and hurried out of the Great Hall.

"There's no good way for this to end," Marietta said.

…

By lunch, word of a cerberus guarding a top-secret trapdoor on the third floor had spread like wildfire among the students, giving way to rumors, theories, and completely wild guesses as to what could be under the door. Students had taken to breaking into two groups, one to distract Filch, the other to sneak in and stare into the "three faces of death", a nickname that was catching on rather quickly. Surprisingly, the professors had no idea that any of this was going on right under their noses.

"Nothing we can do about it, I suppose," Cho said as they made their way to Flitwick's office. "I mean, whoever tells'd probably never live it down. Really, the staff's bringing this on themselves, if you ask me."

"I know," Marietta said. "I mean, keeping something like that in a school full of kids with limited adult supervision and access to magic? They're just asking for disaster."

"I'm just wondering what it's guarding," Harry said. "I mean, if something's important enough to bring a cerberus into the school, it must be a big deal."

"Whatever it is, why put it here of all places?" Hermione asked. "They say Hogwarts is the safest place there is, but that's why it's a school, not a deposit box in a bank or something. A valuable, dangerous item is bound to attract thieves."

"Shouldn't we be bringing all of this up to Flitwick?" Mike pointed out, and Hermione nodded as they reached the diminutive Charms master's office, knocking.

"Come in," Flitwick's squeaky voice said. They opened the door, and the professor looked mildly surprised at such a large group of students visiting at once. "Well, good afternoon. What can do for all of you?"

"Sir," Hermione said, stepping in with the others behind her, "we wanted to ask you about the cerberus on the third floor."

…

While Hermione made her Charms teacher increasingly uncomfortable with her amount of knowledge, four daredevils were lurking in the now infamous corridor, waiting for the fifth of their number.

Herman Wintringham could think of little that was actually exciting about his life. Yeah, he could play a lute with all the effort it took to breathe, but what did that get him apart from the occasional female admirer (not that that wasn't great)? No, he wanted some danger before his seventh year in Hogwarts was out.

Naturally, word of a cerberus lurking right here in the school was like a message from above.

"You sure about this, Herm?" Orsino asked, nervously turning to scout the corridor once more. "I mean, a damn cerberus isn't something to mess with."

Orsino, a year his junior but a monster on a drum set, was his usual worrisome self.

"I just wanna see it," Herman said. "How often do you get a chance to see a fucking three-headed dog?"

"Too right, but…I mean, three heads just means it can eat three of us at once," Orsino pressed on.

"Would you relax?" Herman asked. "We've got a secret weapon. Heath, you ready?"

Heathcote nodded, tugging what looked like a miniature model of a guitar from his pocket and tapping it with his wand and a muttered, "_Engorgio_." Seconds later, he was holding a full-size instrument, twisting slightly at the tuning pegs and plucking the occasional string. "Ready and able."

"I still think I shoulda brought me bagpipes," Gideon, a fifth year and frankly a bit of a whiner, lamented for the fifth time that day.

"Gid, I'm not even going to have this conversation again," Herman said, pulling out his own miniaturized lute and repeating the process, taking a moment to make sure the instrument was in playing form, and just in time, as hurried footsteps announced the arrival of their fifth member.

"How we doing, Mert?" Herman asked.

Merton Graves was their youngest member (only a fourth year), but he was a rising cellist, having already played a sold-out concert as part of a string quartet earlier in the summer.

"Filch is four floors up and well occupied," he said. "We're clear to go."

"And you're sure music puts it to sleep?" Herman asked.

"If this cerberus is anything like the ones in Greek mythology, yeah," Merton said. "Me older sister studied this sort of thing in her muggle university. This bloke Orpheus put one to sleep with music, so why can't we do the same?"

"Alright," Herman said, turning to face the door. "Let's do it."

Stepping forward with Heathcote next to him, Herman let Merton slip forward with his wand pointed at the door.

"_Alohomora,_" he hissed, and the door let a resounding click before sliding outward. Before it was even halfway open, Herman was already strumming his lute in a lullaby, Heath keeping a slow and soothing beat with his guitar. There was an unmistakable growl, which trailed off as the pair stepped forward, still absently strumming their instruments.

"Aw, wicked…" Herman sighed as he caught sight of the massive beast slumping to the ground, two sets of eyes already shut, the center fighting to stay open. "Keep it up, Heath, it probably doesn't stay down for long."

"Right," Heath said as the other three walked up behind them, Merton squeezing between the two to get a closer look.

"Whoa, this thing is…massive," he said, nudging one of the paws with his feet. "Its feet are nearly the size of my bed!"

"Found that door," Gideon said from nearby, lifting open the trapdoor in the floor and peering down. "Can't see anything."

"Careful," Orsino said, stepping forward and tugging him away. "Who knows what's down there?"

"I bet it's treasure or something," Merton said, moving over to kneel next to the hole. He pulled out his wand. "_Lumos_." Poking his hand down in the hole, he braced himself against the opposite side with his free hand. "It's like it goes on forever. I can't see nothing. What d'you suppose _is_ down there?"

"Wanna find out?" Herman said, stepping up to the hole as well. "I mean, we got past this thing, let's see what we win."

"Yeah?" Merton said, grinning up at Herman. "All right, let's do it!" Quite suddenly, he lifted his hand and dived headfirst down the hole. "Get soooooooommmmme!"

"Banzai!" Herman called, diving after him, song forgotten. He tumbled through darkness before landing on something soft, immediately scrambling to get out of the way for whoever dared dive after him. As he moved, he felt something snatch at his ankle, but he managed to wrench his leg free before it got a good grip. "Mert, you okay?"

"Yeah, but this plants got a hold of me," Merton said from Herman's left. "Help me out here!"

Herman grabbed Merton's outstretched hand and tugged, but a few tendrils still managed to take hold. "What is this stuff?"

"Devil's Snare, likely as not," Merton said with a grunt. "I did a report for Herbology. Use fire."

"Right," Herman said, aiming his wand. "You may wanna close your eyes. _Incendio!_"

A jet of flame shot from his wand and struck the vines, which retracted back onto the pile of plants, and Herman fell back, Merton landing on top of him before rolling off.

"Thanks, mate," he said, standing and helping Herman up.

"Not at all," Herman said, looking up at the now distant trapdoor and shouting. "It's a bunch of Devil's Snare! You can land fine, but get away quick or it'll get ya!"

"Got it!" Orsino shouted back, and the light from above disappeared for a moment as he leaped down the hole, landing with a muffled noise and wriggling away from the plants before they could grab him.

"You didn't say something cool as you jumped," Herman accused him, and Orsino only rolled his eyes, pulling out his wand and muttering, "_Lumos_."

"I'm coming next!" Gideon shouted.

"Say something cool as you jump!" Herman shouted, and he heard Gideon laugh.

"Fuck yeeeeeaaaaahh!" his shout grew louder as he got closer, finally landing and rolling away from the plants as they snatched at him.

"Nice," Herman said, helping him to his feet and looking back up at the door. "Heath, come on down!"

"On my way!" Heath shouted, and his strumming stopped. There was a growl and two barks, but Heath was down the hole already, falling silently before landing on the Devil's Snare, from which he quickly extricated himself.

"Well, maybe the treasure's further on," Herman said, and Gideon sighed.

"Why do I get the feeling we're about to go through the Temple of Doom?"

"I get the feeling that's some kinda muggle movie reference, so I'll ignore it," Herman said, leading the way down a dark hallway. He pulled out his wand. "_Lumos_."

The others did the same as they made their way around a corner, a faint noise meeting their ears and growling louder.

"Hear that?" Orsino asked, and the other all made noises of acknowledgement. "Sounds like…fluttering."

"Birds, you think?" Merton asked. They reached a doorway and stepped through into a narrow, high-ceilinged room probably the size of the entrance hall. "Aw, wicked."

Fluttering about the ceiling was a flock of seemingly hundreds of birds, each one a different color. They never seemed to need to roost on anything, their constant motion giving the impression of a churning technicolor sea.

"Those aren't birds," Heath muttered, squinting slightly and shining his wand up at the winged things, which, shockingly, sparkled at the light. "They're…keys."

"Keys to what?" Herman asked, and Merton pointed across the room.

"'Spect to that door," he said, and they moved for the door set in the opposite wall, glancing warily up at the flying keys as though expecting them to set upon the group at any moment. They made it unscathed, though, and Herman tugged at the doorknob, knowing he likely wouldn't get it open, but one always had to try these things.

"_Alohomora_," he muttered, but the door still didn't budge. "Okay, plan B. Step back, you lot."

They did so, and Herman took a few steps back as well. "_Reducto!_"

There was a bright orange light and the sound of an impact, but the door still stood unscathed. Sighing, Herman turned to his companions. "I'm tapped out. Any ideas?"

"Catch the key?" Merton asked, craning his neck to stare up at the cloud of keys.

"I was hoping you wouldn't say that," Herman said, following his gaze. "How are we supposed to pick out _one_ key among all those?"

"I think that's the point," Heath said, glancing around. "Well, unless they expect us to jump up there…ah! Brooms. Only three of them, though."

"Well, Heath, you've always been a fair flyer," Herman said. "I'll take another. Gideon, you're pretty good at the freezing charm, right?"

"Flitwick went on for about fifteen minutes when I showed it to him in class," Gideon replied, sounding proud of himself.

"Good," Herman said. "Take the third broom, and let's find the key that looks like the closest match, then hit them all with a freezer, then we'll nab it."

"Solid plan," Gideon said, clambering onto a broom and gripping it with one hand while he took out his wand with the other. The three flew up to the cluster of keys, scanning for the most likely match to the door.

"It's probably silver like the lock," Heath said. "Older fashioned than most of these, too."

"There! Blue wings!" Gideon said, aiming his wand. "_Immobulus!_"

The cloud of keys froze, and Heath zoomed at the indicated key, snatching it and flying down to the door.

"That was easy," he muttered as he fitted the slowly struggling key into the lock and tugged the door open. The others filed through as he let the key flutter slowly up to rejoin its fellows. "Reckon the treasure's through here?"

"What's if it's something really boring?" Merton asked. "Like a buncha old paintings or books?"

"We'll auction 'em off to the highest bidder or something," Herman said. "It's gotta be valuable to someone."

They entered into an enormous room, and lights sprang up out of nowhere, illuminating what looked at first like a giant graveyard, but a careful glance told Herman that it was –

"A fuckin' huge chessboard…" Gideon breathed next to him, and Herman nodded.

"Bet we have to tell 'em what to do and win the game to move on," he said, pointing to the door on the opposite wall. He turned to the nearest chessman, a rook, and spoke to it, figuring it had to be at least sentient. "Right?"

The rook turned to glance at him, gesturing a stone arm at the assembled students, then pointing at its comrades.

"We've got to fill in for you lot?" Heath said, stepping up behind Herman, and the rook nodded. "Fuck that."

"You what?" Herman said, turning to Heath, who was staring back at him with an eyebrow raised. "C'mon, Heath, it'll be a blast."

"Yeah, until one of us gets taken," Heath said. "I don't know about you, but I've never seen a peaceful resolution in chess, and this is life size."

"Heath, you remember that time you went up against Orsino last Christmas?" Herman said, and Heath nodded. "You were undefeated before then." Heath nodded again. "And Orsino beat you without losing a single piece." Another more reluctant nod. "Between the two of you, I think we could make it work."

…

"Man, I've never seen such a well-played game," Gideon said an hour later as the exited the hall, the destroyed remains of half the white forces in their wake. "I mean, that…what did you call that one move?"

"_En passant_," Heath said with a smirk, and Orsino chuckled. "It's never lost me a game."

"I didn't even know it was possible to win without losing a _single piece_," Merton said. "It…how does that - ?"

"Try not to think about it too much," Orsino said as they reached the next door. As he reached out to grab the handle, he paused, holding up a hand to tell them all to be quiet. "Listen."

_Thud…thud…thud…thud…grooooooaaaaannnn…._

"What is it, you think?" Herman asked, and they all shook their heads.

"Something big and dangerous, I reckon," Merton said.

"Worse than the dog?" Orsino asked, and Herman felt a thrill shoot through him.

"I bet we could take it," he said. "No, listen," he went on, when they began to protest. "Heath, you and I will hit whatever it is with a conjuctivitus curse – "

"What if it doesn't have eyes?" Heath said, and Herman held up a hand to say he was getting to that.

"Orsino, how's your stunning spell?" he asked, and Orsino shrugged.

"Knocked Gideon out cold for about an hour," he said, and Gideon nodded.

"Too right," he said. "Missed Herbology, at that."

"Alright, you lot hit it with stunners," he said. "If that still doesn't work, everyone cluster together, me and Heath'll hit it with a blasting hex."

"And if _that_ doesn't work?" Heath asked.

"Run like hell back the way we came," Herman said. "It's clearly too big to fit through the door, so it won't be able to come after us."

The group all exchanged glances then shrugged. What the hell?

"On three, right?" Herman asked, and they all nodded, readying their wands. "One…."

"Wait, fire _on_ three, or one-two-three-fire?" Orsino asked, and Herman rolled his eyes.

"One-two-three-fire," he said, and Orsino nodded. "Okay, one…two…_three!_"

He slammed the door open, and they all caught sight of the largest troll any of them had ever even heard of before twin conjuctivitus curses and three stunners shot at the beast. The conjunctivitus curses hit first, and the massive creature clutched at its face with equally massive hands before the stunners hit as well. It rocked precariously on its feet before plummeting to the ground with a massive _ker-THOOOOOM!_

"Let's stun it again, just to be on the safe side, eh?" Herman said, and the others nodded, hitting it with five more stunners. "Okay, now let's get out of here."

"I sure hope there's a backdoor once we reach wherever this leads," Orsino said. "I don't fancy fighting that thing again now it's probably pissed off."

"If it _is_ awake when we come back 'round, we'll just bust out the blasting hexes," Herman said as the made their way to the next room.

"So what d'you think's in this one?" Merton asked as they walked. "Treasure?"

"At the rate we've been going, it's probably a chimera or something," Gideon said, and Orsino nodded in silent agreement.

"Aw, where's your spirit of adventure, fellas?" Herman said with a grin. "Think about it; once we _do_ make it to the end of this, we'll be famous! We'll go down in Hogwarts history as the ones who found…whatever it is we're moving toward."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, let's just keep moving forward, eh?" Orsino said, and they stepped into the next room to find what looked like a miniature version of the Great Hall, though without the see-through ceiling and only one large table with seven unique bottles of unidentifiable substance.

"What the hell?" Herman muttered, picking up a bottle at random and examining it before setting it back down. There was a shout from the entrance, and they all turned to see Merton jumping forward as purple flames shot up in the doorway he'd just walked through. Simultaneously, black flames filled the exit on the opposite wall.

"So, we're stuck here," Orsino said, staring curiously at the purple flames. "Unless someone knows some kind of extinguishing spell that works on enchanted purple superfire."

"I'm tapped out," Heath said, smirking at the black flames. "Enchanted purple superfire isn't in the curriculum this year, I suppose."

"Maybe they haven't reached it yet," Merton said, and Herman laughed as he studied the table of potions.

"Hey, all, looka this," he said, picking up a sheaf of parchment. "It's got some kind of riddle on it. Reckon this is the way to get through."

"Well, let's hear it."

"_Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,_

_Two of us will help you, whichever you would find,_

_One among us seven will let you move ahead,_

_Another will transport the drinker back instead,_

_Two among our number hold only nettle wine,_

_Three of us are killers, waiting hidden in line._

_Choose, unless you wish to stay here for evermore,_

_To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:_

_First, however slyly the poison tries to hide_

_You will always find some on nettle wine's left side;_

_Second, different are those who stand at either end,_

_But if you would move onwards neither is your friend; _

_Third, as you see clearly, all are different size,_

_Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides;_

_Fourth, the second left and the second on the right_

_Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight."_

"The fuck's that mean?" Orsino asked, and the rest shook their heads, except for Gideon, who stepped forward and studied the parchment. Herman started to ask if he understood it, but Gideon held a hand up for silence.

"'Kay," he said, pointing at a very small bottle near him. "That's the one to get us ahead." He pointed at another, much larger bottle across the table. "That'll get us back."

"Which ones are the wine?" Orsino asked, and they ignored him.

"So, that's not enough to get us all forward," Herman said, staring calculatingly at the bottle. "Barely enough for one."

"Plenty to get us all back, though," Heath said, picking up the much large bottle of purple-flame retardant. He popped the top, gave it a sniff, and set it back down. "Smells like lime. I hate lime."

"So what do we do?" Merton asked, staring at the black flames. "One of us press on? See what's through there?"

They all looked at Herman, who held up his hands defensively. "What're you lot looking at me for?"

"This whole thing was your idea," Orsino said, plucking up the potion and passing it to him. "Wanna find out what it's all about?"

Herman stared at the potion, turning to look at the black fire that blocked the way to wherever this thing led. They'd come too far to just turn back now; on the other side of those flames waited…something. Whatever it was, it was important, important enough to set all this up. If he got through and reached it, he would surely be remembered for generations to come. Plus, it would be such a "take that" to the teachers that five students managed to blow through all of these security measures. Imagining the looks on the professors' faces was the clincher. He turned to the others, popping the top on the potion.

"You sure this is the one?" he asked Gideon, who nodded.

"Absolutely."

"Only drink half," Herman cautioned him. "Otherwise, you'll be stuck over on that side."

"Right," Herman said. "Cheers." He raised the bottle to them before taking a swig, emptying half of it. It was the coldest thing he'd ever drank in his life, like ice with frostbite. The chill spread to his limbs, and he shuddered involuntarily. "Cold enough, I guess. Wish me luck."

He turned and marched at the black fire, stepping through. The flames should have probably vaporized him, but instead, it was like walking over a large vent that was pumping out mildly warm air. He stepped out of the fire and into a rather large round room whose only feature was a small wooden table in the center. Upon closer inspection, he saw a grubby-looking package on the table, slightly ripped and definitely worse for wear.

"That's it?" he muttered to himself, glancing around the room, waiting for something else to jump out and try to kill him as soon as he stepped forward, but the room looked to be deserted. Maybe the teachers didn't think anyone would make it this far. He took a tentative step toward the table, gripping his wand so tight he was afraid it might snap. Nothing. Emboldened, he took a few more steps forward, ready to start firing stunners at a moment's notice. It was probably two minutes before he reached the package. He was about to reach out and snatch it up, but he could almost imagine Heath batting his hand away.

_Idiot_, his imagined voice said. _It could be booby trapped_.

"Right," he said, poking it with his wand. "_Specialis revelio._"

The package glowed in impossibly bright white, which Herman remembered meant that there were no dangerous enchantments on it, but the sheer blinding light meant it had to be immensely powerful

"Fuck yes," Herman said, picking up the package and unwrapping it. Into his hand fell a blood red stone, and he stared at it in puzzlement, holding it up to the light from the torches on the wall. It glittered strangely, the light seeming to pulsate as it went through the stone, like a heartbeat. Curiously, it was warm to the touch and heavier than its size implied. Herman was no jeweler, but even he could tell that this wasn't just some enchanted ruby; the very stone itself was a magical construct.

He stuffed the stone into his pocket, tossing aside the wrappings, and pulled the remainder of the black-flame retardant out, popping the top the draining the bottle.

"Right," he said, heading back the way he came. "Let's see what the prize is."

…

"So, Filius, what was it you wanted to discuss with me?" Albus asked, smiling across his desk at his Charms teacher.

"Albus, I believe the security of the Philosopher's Stone has been compromised," Filius said, his face full of worry, and Albus frowned. "Earlier today, six of my students told me that not only had they managed to get into Fluffy's chamber with a single charm, they've heard a disturbing number of accounts that other students are devising ways to get _past_ Fluffy and into the chambers we've set up. Albus, even if they _survive_ Fluffy, the Devil's Snare – "

"They were warned," Albus said.

"And what good has that _ever_ done with children!" Filius asked. "Albus, I've sat idly by for now because I've trusted your judgment, but you've stuck a _cerberus_ behind a badly locked door and done nothing more than told the students to _stay away_. If the Board of Governors, if the _parents_ find out about this, you _know_ who's going to get blamed."

Albus nodded. "Filius, I promised Nicolas that I would put the finest protection measures on his stone – "

There was a knock at the door, but a voice shouted, "Aw, heroes can just barge in, Heath!"

Albus's office door burst open, and he finally decided that maybe he was slightly mistaken in his methods as a student Albus remembered as Herman Wintringham, a seventh year from Gryffindor, strode in, hoisting the Philosopher's Stone aloft with a huge grin.

"Tell me I get some kind of trophy," he said.

* * *

"Not bad," Lily said. "Actually, really good. I can see why you've got so many fans. And why James loves your work so much. You wouldn't know it, but he's a grammar freak."

"Really?" the author asked, surprised. "That so?"

"Yep," Lily said, standing with the manuscript and leading the author to the posting point. "Something I understand you two have in common."

"Very true," the author said, following her and trying not to stare at her butt. "Um, do you know where you're going?"

"I'm sure I'll get there eventually," Lily said with another smile, and the author rolled his eyes.


End file.
